


Phoenix Rising

by geri_chan



Series: Always [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 333,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3139046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geri_chan/pseuds/geri_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Order of the Phoenix tries to deal with the aftermath of Voldemort's return, and Tonks accidentally witnesses a private moment between Snape and Lupin...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Ink Stained Fingers on 11/23/03.
> 
> Warning: There is a non-graphic description of a rape in a flashback in Chapter 6, and a brief non-graphic mention of a past rape in Chapter 10. Other than that, no archive warnings apply.

Snape had just come up from the dungeon when he spotted Potter pointing his wand at Malfoy in the entrance hall while Crabbe and Goyle stood by watching slack-jawed. "Potter!" he shouted. Damn that boy; hadn't nearly being killed by the Dark Lord taught him any common sense? Apparently not. _Although,_ Snape's inner voice piped up in its usual annoying fashion, _Malfoy probably provoked him._

 _Probably,_ Snape agreed sourly as he strode over to where the four boys were standing. _Malfoy has no common sense, either._ Aloud, he said in a cold voice, "What are you doing, Potter?"

"I'm trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir," Potter said fiercely.

Still insolent as ever; one would think the boy might show Snape just a little gratitude after saving his good-for-nothing godfather...but that was probably too much to expect from a Gryffindor. "Put that wand away at once," he said curtly. "Ten points from Gryff--" He broke off and smiled when he saw the giant hourglasses on the wall. "Ah. I see there are no longer any points left in the Gryffindor hourglass to take away. In that case, Potter, we will simply have to--"

"Add some more?" a voice asked cheerfully.

"Professor McGonagall!" exclaimed Snape. "Out of St. Mungo's, I see!" He was momentarily relieved to see that she looked well aside from the fact that she was leaning on a walking stick, but any benevolent feelings he might have had towards her quickly evaporated as she sent Crabbe and Goyle upstairs with her cloak and bag, then spoiled his fun by awarding fifty points each to Potter, Ron and Ginny Weasley, Longbottom, and Granger for "alerting the world to the return of You-Know-Who". Snape's ten points were then deducted, but there was not much satisfaction in that now. McGonagall then headed up to her office as Potter wisely beat a hasty retreat, leaving him alone with Malfoy. Snape scowled at McGonagall as she walked up the staircase. "Damn Gryffindors," he muttered under his breath. He turned to leave--he was on his way to the Headmaster's office--when Malfoy said, "Sir? Can I talk to you for a minute?" The boy looked pale, angry, and frightened.

Snape hesitated; well, his business with the Headmaster wasn't really urgent...and he had been so busy this year trying to keep Dylan out of the Voldemort's clutches, that he had not spent as much time as he should have on Draco. He had wanted to save both boys from the Death Eaters, but right now his track record was looking pretty abysmal--the Mark had already been forced upon Dylan, and Draco was probably all too eager to take it. "Very well," Snape said. "Let's go down to my office."

They went back down to the dungeon, and Snape took a seat behind his desk and said, "What is it, Draco?"

The boy did not sit, but stood there clenching his fists. "How can you just let Potter walk around free while my dad is in prison?" he burst out.

"I'm not 'letting' Potter do anything, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said coldly, a note of warning in his voice.

Draco ignored it. "And why are you walking around free when my father and my friends' fathers are in Azkaban?" he shouted. "What are you going to do to help them?"

Snape jumped to his feet and loomed over the boy, who took a step backwards, belatedly realizing that he'd gone too far. "Watch your mouth, Mr. Malfoy!" Snape snarled. "I will make some allowance for your distress, but I will not tolerate that kind of insolence! As you just pointed out, I am one of the few allies your family has left that is not in prison, so if you want any help from me, you had better treat me with some respect!"

Draco went pale and said, "I--I'm sorry, sir. I just...I was so upset about my father, I didn't think...I'm sorry."

The boy looked chastened and the apology seemed sincere, so Snape sat back down and said in a less threatening voice, "Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy." Draco quickly dropped into a nearby chair, and Snape said in an almost kindly voice, "I suppose we can let it go this once, considering the stress you are under..."

"Thank you, sir," Draco said, looking relieved. "But...about my father...? I know I was wrong to blame you, sir, but isn't there something we can do?"

"Azkaban is no longer guarded by Dementors," Snape pointed out. "I doubt they will be there for long."

"I know, but..." Draco's face twisted in anger and humiliation. "The other students, especially the Gryffindors, are gloating about it..."

"Ah, is that what the quarrel with Potter was about?"

"Yes, sir," Draco said sullenly.

"I know it is difficult, Draco," Snape said, trying to sound sympathetic--and was not quite sure if he succeeded, since sympathy was foreign to his nature, "but you must keep your temper and your dignity." Snape remembered how Branwen Blackmore had once chastised Black for always acting without thinking; it occured to him that both Potter and Malfoy suffered from the same fault. "Hold your head up high, and act as if their insults mean nothing to you. When you react as you do, you are only giving them the satisfaction--"

"So I'm just supposed to stand by and let them insult my dad?" Draco asked indignantly.

"You're supposed to act as if their petty insults mean nothing to you," Snape said sharply. "The Dark Lord's mission failed, and that means the Death Eaters must go back into hiding. Those of us still free must keep up a respectable face to the outside world, do you understand me, Malfoy?"

"Yes, but--" the boy protested in a whiny tone.

Snape decided to play on the boy's pride; he might be a spoiled little brat, but he did love his mother, and Snape could use that to his advantage. "While your father is away, Draco, you must be strong, for your mother's sake. You are the man of the family now. It's up to you to look after and protect her."

Snape didn't think that Dylan would have fallen for such blatant flattery, but Draco ate it up. He sat up a bit straighter in his chair, a look of pride and determination on his face. "Yes, sir! Don't worry; I'll look after her!"

"Good," said Snape. "And remember, that means staying out of trouble."

Draco scowled a little at that, but said obediently, "Yes, sir." He hesitated, then asked, "Professor?"

"Yes, Draco?"

"When will I get to take the Mark? I mean, with Dad and the others in prison, doesn't our Master need more followers at his side?"

Snape gave him a cold look. "That is not up to me, Mr. Malfoy; it is up to the Dark Lord. And it is not your place or mine to tell our Lord what he should do."

Draco looked crestfallen, and a little sulky. "Yeah, I know, but why did Dylan get to join when he's a year younger than me?"

Snape glared at him. "You are not ready to be a Death Eater if you do not know one of our most basic precepts: never to question the Dark Lord's judgment."

"I know, but--"

"Draco, have you not noticed that being a Death Eater is a dangerous profession? Your father is in prison; your friend Dylan's father is dead."

"But--"

"Has it not occurred to you that perhaps your parents are trying to protect you?" Actually, Snape wasn't sure if that was true or not; Narcissa was overprotective, but he wasn't sure if she was really aware of the danger her son would be in if he joined their ranks, or whether she was blinded by worship of Voldemort. As for Lucius, although he indulged his son with material gifts, he showed little fatherly affection or concern towards the boy. He was, come to think of it, not unlike Snape's father, cold and concerned more with power and upholding the family name than he was with his son's welfare.

"I'm not a baby!" Draco protested. "I don't need to be protected!"

"Yes, you do," Snape said coldly. "Your attitude proves it. If you talked back to the Dark Lord the way you are talking to me now, your punishment would be far more than detention or points taken off your House, I assure you." He rose from his seat and glided around the desk; Draco looked up at him nervously. Snape leaned over and said softly, "Do you know what a Cruciatus Curse feels like, Draco?" The boy shook his head. Snape leaned down further and whispered in his ear, "Well, I do." 

The boy nearly jumped out of his seat; he stared at Snape, his gray eyes wide with horror. "Y-you...?" Draco stuttered. "Th-the Dark L-Lord...?"

Snape knew he was taking a risk, but this might be his last chance to save Draco; he was already nearly beyond redemption. And with Lucius gone, he had some leeway; maybe without his father around to constantly extoll the praises of being a Death Eater, Draco might actually use his brain and think about the consequences...well, it was rather unlikely, but one could always hope for a miracle...

Snape continued in a smooth, silky voice, "The Dark Lord does not tolerate insolence, and he does not tolerate failure. In fact, Draco, I think it is indeed wise for you to postpone joining our ranks for now. You see, our Master is likely to be in a bad mood since the mission failed. And you do not want to see our Master in a bad mood, Draco." Snape sighed dramatically. "I would not want to be in the shoes of Bellatrix Lestrange right now, or any of the others who managed to escape. The Dark Lord will be looking for someone to blame..." Snape leaned down and whispered in Draco's ear again. "And a Cruciatus Curse is likely to the least of the punishments he will inflict on them." Draco shuddered and went pale. "Actually, Draco, I don't mean to make light of the situation, but your father and the others who are in Azkaban are probably better off than the ones who went free. Perhaps our Lord will have cooled off by the time he gets around to freeing them."

Now Draco really began to look alarmed. "He wouldn't punish my father, would he?" the boy cried. "It wasn't Dad's fault the mission failed--"

"The Dark Lord cares about results, not excuses," Snape said coldly, but the boy was beginning to get too agitated, and he didn't want him doing anything foolish out of hysteria. "But don't worry," he added, in a soothing tone. "Your father is one of our Lord's most valued servants; I'm sure he'll be all right. It's likely the Dark Lord will have spent his anger on Bellatrix and the others by that time, anyway."

The boy calmed down a little, but didn't look completely reassured. Good; he wanted Draco to have some doubts. "So you see, Draco," Snape said calmly, "I think it is best you continue your education before you think of joining the Death Eaters. You must learn all the magic you can, and more importantly, you must learn discipline and self-control. The rewards the Dark Lord offers are great, but so are the risks and responsibilities. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," a shaken Draco Malfoy said quietly.

"Very well, run along now." The boy stood up and Snape called out to him, "Oh, and by the way, Draco?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"I don't think you should mention any of this to your mother; she has enough to worry about right now."

"Yes, sir," Draco agreed, looking protective. It seemed he was taking Snape's suggestion that he look after his mother seriously. Good.

"Oh, and I'm not supposed to tell you until the results are officially posted, but since your father is such a good friend...I'm sure it wouldn't do any harm to tell you a little early. You passed your O.W.L.s with flying colors, Mr. Malfoy."  "I did?" Draco asked, cheering up a bit.

"Yes indeed, so I shall be pleased to accept you into my N.E.W.T. class next year."

"Thank you, Professor!" Draco said, looking pleased.

"You may go now, Draco...and remember, this is our little secret." Snape gave the boy a conspiratorial smile.

Draco grinned, looking flattered to be sharing a secret with his teacher. "Yes, sir!" he said, and then left the office. Perhaps this could be a useful thing, getting Draco used to keeping secrets from his family--dangerous, of course, but useful...

*** 

School had let out for the summer, and Snape and Dumbledore went to Mathias Donner's estate in Wales to discuss how best they could protect Dylan Rosier. They sat down with Mathias, his wife Goewin, and Dylan's mother Ariane while the subject of their discussion was sent upstairs, protesting, to his room. The Order of the Phoenix was bound to come up during the conversation, and both Snape and the Headmaster wanted to limit the amount of sensitive information Dylan was privy to until they had all decided how much he should be told. The more he knew, the more of a danger he was to both them and to himself, should Voldemort be able to rip the information from his mind. He was progressing smoothly in his Occlumency lessons, but he was still only a boy, and not yet a match for the Dark Lord. The lessons were only to allow him to keep up the facade of a loyal Death Eater, and to be able to lie without detection; he would not yet be able to ward off a direct attack from Voldemort should the Dark Lord decide that Dylan was hiding something important.

Ariane was still in shock from learning that Lucius Malfoy had kidnapped her off the estate and used her to force Dylan to take the Dark Mark. She remembered nothing of that evening, only that she had been taking a walk on the estate grounds, then felt dizzy and fainted. Mathias had gone looking for her when she did not show up for dinner, and found his niece, unconscious and burning up with fever.

"But it was a very odd and sudden illness," Mathias said grimly. "I suspected it was magically induced, although I had no proof of it. But I have placed added protections upon the house and the estate grounds to keep out unwanted guests."

"I'll kill Lucius," Ariane said through gritted teeth, then glared at Snape. "You were supposed to be protecting Dylan!"

She expected Severus to get angry or look worried, because after all, their unspoken agreement had been that she would spread no rumors about the Potions Master and Remus Lupin as long as he kept Dylan safe, and he had broken his promise. She still didn't know exactly what his relationship with Lupin was, but simply hinting that she did had been enough to alarm him. But Severus looked neither angry nor worried; his black eyes were haunted and filled with guilt.

To her surprise, all Severus said was, "I'm sorry, Ariane. It's my fault; I should have been watching him more carefully."

Goewin was looking at him suspiciously. "You have always been close to Lucius Malfoy, Severus; how do we know you were not involved--"

"Do not blame Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. "I trust him completely, Goewin. He did his best, but it is impossible to watch over a child twenty-four hours a day." When Goewin still looked skeptical, Dumbledore added, "He loves Dylan just as much as you do. He would never have done anything to deliberately put him in danger."

Mathias raised an eyebrow while the women's jaws dropped open in shock. Snape's face went red and he looked mortified, but he did not contradict the Headmaster. He quickly ducked his head, letting his black hair fall over his face like a curtain.

 _He really does care about Dylan,_ Ariane thought, hardly able to believe it. He had not been protecting her son solely out of a sense of duty or because she had blackmailed him--he had done it out of love. Ariane felt like her head was spinning; cold, practical Severus Snape, who had never cared for anyone or anything but his own ambition, acting out of sentiment? Could she have misjudged him all along? The genuine guilt and remorse she saw on his face softened her anger, and reminded her that she was not blameless herself...with horror, she remembered Lucius Malfoy's visit last summer. 

"Severus is not the only one to blame," Ariane said softly. "I am at fault as well." The others gave her a puzzled look, and she continued, her face flushing with shame, "Lucius Malfoy visited me here on the estate last summer, Uncle, when you and Goewin had left to take Dylan shopping on his birthday."

"What?" Mathias said, anger filling his gray eyes. "I trusted you, Ariane! Have you been in contact with Malfoy this whole time?"

"No," Ariane protested tearfully. "He appeared out of nowhere, while I was walking on the grounds gathering flowers; he must have Apparated over. He came to tell me that the Dark Lord was gathering his followers to him once more, and hinted that Dylan and I would be expected to prove our loyalty soon."

"What?" Goewin cried in outrage. "And you said nothing of it to us?!"

"I put him off," Ariane said. "I told him Dylan was too young to be a Death Eater, and I thought he was willing to wait; I was wrong." She began to weep. "I'm sorry, Uncle Math, if I had told you right away, you would have been forewarned and able to protect Dylan, and this might not have happened. I'm sorry..."

"Niece, why did you keep your silence and endanger your son?" Math asked sadly.

"I was afraid," she sobbed. "I was afraid the Dark Lord might win in the end, and if I broke off ties to him completely, we would be punished when he came to power. I thought I could delay and play for time until I could tell which side was winning. I wanted to protect Dylan, I didn't want to choose the wrong side. I had no idea Lucius would move so soon, Dylan is only fourteen, and Evan and Severus didn't join till they were eighteen..."

Goewin stared at Ariane in shock and disgust, while Math slid over on the couch they were sitting on to put an arm around his niece. Ariane laid her head on his chest, and he stroked her hair as if she were once again the small girl he used to comfort when she had argued with her mother or been teased by her brothers. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed. "It's all my fault!"

"You have always been too clever for your own good, my dear," Math said gravely. "I fear you have outsmarted yourself this time."

Snape watched the old wizard comfort his niece; he was reminded of Ariane's trial, when her mother and brothers had watched her with contempt, but her uncle had regarded her with sorrow and compassion in his gray eyes...gray eyes...something about that nagged at Snape's memory...

"Of course!" he shouted out loud, slapping himself on the forehead. "Gray eyes!"

Everyone else turned to stare at him, even Ariane, though tears were still running down her face. "Severus?" Goewin asked warily, looking at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"There was a Death Eater I didn't recognize at one of the meetings," Snape said excitedly, turning to Dumbledore. "He was wearing a mask, of course, so all I could see were his eyes--gray eyes. Lucius is the only Death Eater I know who has gray eyes, but I'm sure it wasn't him. But they looked familiar, and I only just now realized where I had seen them before--they reminded me of Dylan's eyes!"

"Dylan was at the meeting?" Goewin asked. "I thought you said he was taken only to the one where they put the Mark on him--"

"No, it wasn't Dylan," Snape interrupted, his mind racing. "It was before he was inducted, and anyway, this was a full-grown man, not a boy. But the eyes were just like his, that odd silver-gray shade all the Donners have..."

Ariane, Math, and Goewin stared at each other; all the Donners had gray eyes, save for blue-eyed Goewin, who was a Donner by marriage, not birth.

"You're sure it was a man?" Goewin asked, giving Ariane a suspicious look.

Ariane bristled for a moment, then sighed. "I suppose I deserve that," she said, and pulled up the sleeve of her robe, revealing that her left arm was still unmarked.

"It wasn't Ariane," Snape said firmly. "The person I saw was taller, and broad of shoulder. I'm sure that it was a man."

"Then it's not Ariane, and certainly not Deirdre," Goewin said uneasily. She looked at her husband, saying, "And of course it wasn't Math. But then that leaves only..."

Her voice trailed off and Math finished grimly, "Gilbert and Gwydion."

"But that's impossible!" exclaimed Ariane, her tears forgotten. "Gwydion hates the Death Eaters, he'd never join them! That's why he turned against me when I fell in love with Evan! And Gilbert's a half-wit, what would the Dark Lord want with him?"

"Of course!" Snape shouted again. "Damn it, why didn't I see it sooner? That's what he wanted the Mind Restoration Potion for!"

"Mind Restoration Potion?" Ariane asked, startled.

"Shortly before school began, the Dark Lord instructed me to make a batch of Mind Restoration Potion, and then again right after--" Snape broke off, flushing; he remembered that night well because it was the same night he had caught Potter spying on his thoughts in the Pensieve. Perhaps that was why he had been too distracted to make the connection until now. "Um, and he ordered me to make more again this past spring," Snape finished. "It was at that meeting that I saw the gray-eyed Death Eater, and I noticed him staring at the chest of potion ingredients the Dark Lord had given me." Snape slapped his forehead again. "Stupid!" he said in frustration. "How could I have not figured it out? But Gwydion Donner was one of the last people I would ever have thought of as a potential Death Eater; I didn't know him well, but I know he hated all Slytherins..."

"But Gwydion loves his brother--loves him too much, some would say," Goewin said in a bitter voice. "I think he would do anything for Gilbert, even sell his soul to Voldemort..."

"The Dark Lord recruited both Dylan and Gwydion at the same time?" Ariane said in outrage, then flushed as Goewin glared at her and her uncle gave her a stern look.

"No honor among thieves," Goewin said coldly. She and Ariane had never been friends, but Goewin loved Dylan, so for the sake of both her nephew and her husband, she had done her best to be kind to Ariane and accept her as family after her fall from grace when her Death Eater lover had been killed. And over the years, the two women had gradually warmed to each other. But now Goewin felt furious and betrayed to learn that Ariane had been contemplating going over to Voldemort. In some ways, Goewin found Ariane's cold pragmatism to be even worse than Evan Rosier's acts as a full-fledged Death Eater; at least his devotion to Voldemort had seemed to be sincere, if misguided. 

"Ariane was trying to protect Dylan, in her own way," Snape said quietly, and Ariane gave him a startled but grateful look. A part of Snape was angry at her as well, but he thought it was more fear than ambition that had made Ariane keep her options open, so he forgave her, because he understood that fear all too well. "You have never seen the Dark Lord in person, Goewin. Those of us who have know the fear he can inspire; fear enough to believe that he might, indeed, triumph in the end. He very nearly won the first time around, you know. If not for the Potter boy..." Snape scowled, hating to be reminded that a Potter had saved the world from Voldemort.

"I understand why Voldemort wants Dylan," Math said, a thoughtful look in his eyes. Snape flinched a little at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, but the old wizard didn't seem to notice, and continued, "After all, Dylan is the son of one his followers. But I do not understand why it was so important to him to recruit Gwydion. That potion, as I recall, is very expensive and difficult to make...."

"Labor is not a problem, at least not to the Dark Lord," Snape said dryly, "since he has assigned that task to me. And money is not a problem either, as most of his followers come from wealthy and powerful families, not to mention the fact that he had a considerable fortune amassed before his fall, and I'm sure most of it was hidden in a safe place. He would see the potion merely as a means to an end, no different than using money or power as a bribe. But yes, I do wonder why he wanted Gwydion...he is a powerful wizard I suppose, and a more-or-less respected figure in society..." The Donner family knew the truth, and so did Snape, because Ariane had told Evan, and Evan had told Snape: that Gwydion had helped his brother Gilbert to assault Goewin when she was a teenage girl. But as far as the outside world was concerned, Gwydion Donner was a respectable member of an old pureblood family. "Perhaps he wants to use Gwydion as a spy...one who won't draw suspicion the way Malfoy or I might...no one would suspect Gwydion of being a Death Eater, after all."

But Ariane, recalling her earlier conversation with Lucius Malfoy, came up with another idea. "Malfoy knows that Goewin made Dylan her heir," she said slowly. "And no, Goewin, I did not tell him that; he learned it from his Ministry sources after you filed the official documents. Dylan and I were outcasts, existing, as my dear brother pointed out, on the charity of my family. If that were still the case, I admit I might have been more eager to join my lover's old comrades, not only to avenge his death, but to win power and wealth for my son. But once you named him heir, it no longer seemed so urgent: Dylan would have a title and lands to call his own, and the risks of being of a Death Eater seemed greater than the rewards. For years, I dreamed of revenge--revenge for Evan's death, revenge for the way my mother and brothers turned against me." For a moment, her silver-gray eyes went hard and cold. "If they had not forbade our marriage, Evan might not have joined the Death Eaters."

"You could have married anyway, once you turned eighteen," Math pointed out gently.

"I know," Ariane said softly, her anger fading. "I was willing to. But Evan was angry with the way they treated me; he said he'd make them sorry for it. He swore he would become so powerful they would have no choice but to give their consent; he swore he would not marry me till they bowed down and begged my forgiveness. And the only person who could give him that kind of power was the Dark Lord."

"Evan always was proud and stubborn," Snape muttered.

"But suddenly, my dreams of vengeance no longer seemed so important, compared to my son's life. I remembered how my lover and his friend died, I remembered how many other Death Eaters died or were sent to Azkaban, and I didn't want to risk Dylan suffering the same fate. I think Lucius suspected I was getting cold feet; he called me a fence-sitter and warned me not to take too long to choose sides."

"I see," Snape murmured. "If he couldn't have Dylan, then he would take your brother, and perhaps use him to destroy you and Dylan."

"But Dylan took the Mark, however reluctantly!" Ariane protested.

"One cannot expect fair play from Voldemort," Dumbledore said quietly. "That is the sort of thing he would find amusing, to double-cross both you and your brother."

"Evan was loyal to him," Ariane whispered, "even if I was not. He died rather than surrender and betray his Lord--"

"Voldemort is loyal to no one but himself," Dumbledore said. "And Evan, being dead, is of no more use to him."

Snape nodded in agreement, a bitter look in his eyes. "He called us his family, but he was quick to punish, even kill, those who failed him, however loyal they were."

"Professor Blackmore warned us that he could not be trusted, but we didn't listen," Ariane admitted miserably. 

"None of us did," said Snape, looking a little shamefaced.

Ariane frowned thoughtfully. "I read some crazy rumor in the Daily Prophet that Professor Blackmore is still alive, that she turned up at the Ministry during the battle--"

Dumbledore grinned, his eyes twinkling despite the seriousness of their discussion. "I am pleased to say it is no rumor; she is indeed alive and well!"

"What?!" exclaimed Ariane. "After all these years? Where has she been hiding?"

"It's a very long story," Snape muttered.

"Let it suffice to say that she has been in hiding for her own safety, among other reasons," Dumbledore said. "But now that her cover has been blown, so to speak, there is no point in hiding anymore. Perhaps you will even have the chance to apologize to her." Ariane flushed.

"I'm delighted that the Professor is still alive," Goewin said impatiently. "But we're getting off-track; what are we going to do to protect Dylan? I think we should take him out of school and keep him on the estate--"

"If you do that," Dumbledore said patiently, "you will endanger both Dylan and Severus--"

"Severus is an adult," Goewin snapped. "He can take care of himself! And it seems to me that Dylan is in more danger at Hogwarts, where Lucius Malfoy was able to kidnap him right off the school grounds--"

"And he was also able to kidnap Ariane off your estate," Dumbledore pointed out. 

"That was before I was aware of the increased risk," Math pointed out, but he looked worried. "And I did strengthen the protective spells guarding the estate and the manor--"

"But can you be absolutely certain, that your spells can keep out several determined Death Eaters, and perhaps even Voldemort himself?" Dumbledore asked gently. "If he believes that Dylan has betrayed him, he will seek to punish both Dylan and his mother. And you have never been a fool, Math. You may have forgiven Ariane after the trial, but I'm sure that you were on guard, watching to see if she would contact any of the surviving Death Eaters, and vice versa. You may not have expected Lucius to kidnap Ariane, but you were prepared for trouble, and still he slipped through your defenses."

The old wizard bowed his head. "I was vigilant for many years, but I have grown a little lax of late...nothing happened, and Dylan seemed to be doing so well at school. I thought his friendship with the Muggle-born girl, and their little project to help the house-elves, meant that he was turning away from the path of a Death Eater. I grew complacent, but that will not happen again! But you are right, Albus, that it is impossible to guard against every possible danger."

"And you are right, Goewin," Snape said in a level tone. "My safety doesn't matter. But the Dark Lord punishes traitors mercilessly. Dylan might well be safer if the Dark Lord thinks he is a loyal Death Eater."

"Severus's safety _does_ matter," Dumbledore said firmly. "Even if you don't care what happens to him, he is our only spy in Voldemort's camp. The Order cannot operate without the information he supplies."

"Dylan is too young to be a spy," Goewin said, turning to her husband with pleading eyes. "Math, don't let them do this!"

"We don't intend to use him as a spy," Snape said. "He'll keep as low a profile as possible--"

"Have you instructed him to tell you when he is summoned?" Goewin demanded. "And to tell you what is said to him at meetings?"

"Yes, but--"

"Then I call that spying!"

"I would spare him if I could, but he is already Marked!" Snape said impatiently. "I need to know these things in order to protect him! But probably he will not have to tell me anything, because if he is summoned, most likely I will be too." Goewin started to protest, but Snape cut her off. "And I do not think you can get Dylan to stay here unless you lock him up, because the Dark Lord has threatened to kill Ariane if Dylan betrays him."

Goewin frowned unhappily. Her nephew was fiercely devoted to his mother, and would never let himself be hidden away for his own safety if it put Ariane in danger.

"Besides," Snape pointed out. "It could take years to defeat the Dark Lord--if that's even possible. How many years are you going to keep Dylan locked up here on the estate?"

"Well, if we cannot keep Dylan completely safe, is there something we can do to at least lessen the danger he is in?" Math asked sensibly.

"Severus is teaching him Occlumency," Dumbledore replied, "which will help him to guard his thoughts from Voldemort and ward off mental attacks."

"Ah," said Math, comprehension dawning in his gray eyes as he looked at Snape. "So that is how you have been able to deceive your Dark Lord. Yes, that will be very useful."

"Isn't there anything more we can do?" Goewin asked helplessly.

"The protections around the school have been increased," Dumbledore said, "and Severus and I will be watching closely over him."

"I promise," Snape said, quietly but fervently, "I won't let anything happen to him this time. If he's in danger, I'll pull him out and bring him to safety, even if it exposes my cover." 

The Donners looked bemused by the fierce protectiveness in Snape's voice, while Dumbledore smiled, though he also looked a little concerned. "Severus will continue to tutor Dylan over the summer, as often as his other duties allow," the Headmaster said. "As for what you can do, you must guard Dylan carefully over the summer; your estate is more vulnerable than the school. And if Gwydion Donner has been corrupted, you may have to guard against your own family members as well."

Math nodded grimly. "I have barred Gwydion and Gilbert from returning to the estate after they insulted Goewin and Dylan last summer, but I see now that mere words will not suffice. I will add a spell to the protective wards around the estate, that will prevent them from entering or Apparating into the house and grounds without my express permission. And perhaps I had better include my sister in that ban, in case they attempt to use her against me. I do not think any reward would entice her to join the Death Eaters, not even a cure for Gilbert, but she has always overindulged the boys, and they may be able to manipulate her into performing their Master's work without her knowledge."

"And we could use your help in the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore added quietly. "You have given us your support, of course, but--"

"But I was not able to take a more active role, because I was watching over Dylan and Ariane," Math finished. "That was my agreement with my sister, that if she used her influence to save Ariane from Azkaban, that Ariane would be exiled to my estate, and I would act as her keeper. But now, I think we are all on the same side--"

"Are we?" Goewin asked, giving Ariane a suspicious look. "Can we really trust her?"

"The Dark Lord has threatened my son," Ariane said quietly. "Any loyalty I might have felt towards him is gone. I swear, by this ring--" She held up her hand, the silver-and-rose engagement ring glittering on her finger. "--that I will let go of my hate, and give up my dreams of avenging my love. He is dead now, and the living are more important. I will let Evan rest in peace, and focus all my energy on protecting our son. I swear on the life of my son that I will not betray you, not even to save my own life." Ariane, who for as long as Snape could remember, had been proud and arrogant even in defeat, said humbly, "You may bind me to my promise by magic, if you wish. Geas me not to reveal any of our secrets, now or in the future."

Geas was an ancient and powerful form of Celtic magic; one could use it, for example, to make a warrior incapable of betraying his lord, or use it to bind a person not to reveal a secret, as Ariane had suggested. It bordered on the Dark Arts, because it could be used to make a person act against their will--not unlike the Imperius Curse, in a way, but much more powerful, because it was permanent unless the caster of the spell revoked it. Snape had not known there was any living mage capable of casting it--not even the Dark Lord, since he would no doubt have already used it if he could--but apparently Mathias Donner was. The Donners had always had odd and rare magical gifts, and were tied more closely to the old, pagan ways of magic than most of the other wizarding families.

"Very well, Niece," Math said solemnly. "Not because I do not trust you, but to protect both you and ourselves, should the worst happen and you be captured by the Death Eaters." He turned to Dumbledore. "I still need to stay on the estate most of the time to guard Ariane. She will need more protection than ever now, and also, it is best, I think, if it appears to the outside world that nothing has changed, and that Ariane is still a virtual prisoner. But if you need me, send word and I will come, and in the meantime Goewin can attend the meetings and report back to me. Discreetly, of course."

"Of course," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Although the Ministry finally acknowledges the truth of Voldemort's return, I think it is best if the Order continues to meet in secret for now, to protect the members' safety and prevent leaks of information. I am sure he must still have some agents in the Ministry, even though his most valuable source, Lucius Malfoy, was captured." 

"What about Dylan?" Goewin asked. "What, if anything, should he be told about the Order?"

"My first thought is to tell him nothing," Dumbledore said. "But then again, keeping Harry in the dark proved to be a very wrong decision..."

"Mr. Potter isn't likely to be attending any Death Eater meetings," Snape pointed out. "Dylan already knows that we're working against the Dark Lord, which is dangerous enough. He doesn't need to know the details right now. The less he knows, the less he'll have to hide, both from the Dark Lord and his Slytherin housemates."

"He's just a child," said Goewin. "Can he really act well enough to fool not only his classmates, but the Death Eaters?"

Snape laughed harshly. "Don't you get it, Goewin? He's been acting his entire life! He dreamed of being a Death Eater like his father, until he met me and began to realize that being a Death Eater isn't all power and glory!" She stared at him in horror, and he wondered how she had retained her idealism, after being attacked by the twins, after watching her niece stand trial as a Death Eater. "So, yes, I believe he can keep up the act, but I think it would be wise not add to the strain of it by giving him more secrets to conceal." Because Snape knew from experience, what it cost to keep up a constant facade, never letting anyone see your true feelings...

Dumbledore shot Snape a concerned look, but merely said, "Do we agree, then, not to involve Dylan with the Order for now?" Everyone agreed, and Dumbledore, as Secret-Keeper of the Phoenix headquarters, gave Math and Goewin--but not, Snape noted, Ariane--permission to enter the Grimmauld Place house, and told them when the next meeting would take place.

"Wait," called Ariane, as the two Professors prepared to leave. "May I speak to you in private for a moment, Severus?"

Math and Dumbledore exchanged looks; the Headmaster gave a slight nod, then said cheerfully, "I'll meet you back at the school, Severus," then Disapparated, vanishing from the room.

Ariane led Snape into a nearby room--her uncle's library, by the looks of it. They stared at each other in wary silence for a moment, then she smiled and said, "You surprise me, Severus--you are not what I thought you were. All these years, I thought you were a cold and pragmatic man, who cared only for your own safety and ambition--so it shocked me to learn that you are a hero in disguise! But perhaps I should not be so surprised; you always did have a sense of honor back in school, however much you tried to hide it. That was why I wrote to you and asked you to help Dylan in the first place."

Snape flushed and said a little peevishly, "Well, you are not what I thought you were, either, Ariane! I thought you were raising Dylan up to be a good little Death Eater!"

"I was," she said, shamefaced. "I tutored him extensively in the Dark Arts while he was growing up. It was not until Lucius showed up last August that I realized how much danger I was putting him in and came to my senses--too late, unfortunately."

Snape felt a little guilty then, and said apologetically, "Well, I'm glad I was wrong. And he's turned out pretty well, so you must have done something right."

Ariane gave him a serious look and said quietly, "You have protected and looked after Dylan these past two years, and not just out of duty to Evan's memory or because I threatened you. You care about him, and it is obvious to me that he cares about you as well. I'm sorry, Severus, that I tried to blackmail you. I promise I won't say anything about you and Lupin."

"How DID you find out about us, anyway?" Snape burst out, and Ariane repressed a giggle at the indignant look on his face.

"I just guessed," she admitted. "I was thinking about Evan and myself, how we were enemies before we were lovers, and how you were the only one of his Slytherin friends--other than Lyall, of course--who accepted our relationship before Malfoy granted us his approval in exchange for Evan becoming a Death Eater. Then I remembered how you always used to follow Potter's little gang around, and I wondered if you might have had a crush as a boy, on Potter or one of his friends." Snape looked outraged at the thought of having a "crush" on James Potter, and this time Ariane did laugh out loud. "Your rivalry with Potter was the most intense, but I also remembered how you were obsessed with Lupin's frequent absences, and how you worked together with him on that project for Blackmore's class. And then I remembered some gossip one of my old Ravenclaw friends had written to me about, how you had gotten Lupin fired from his job at Hogwarts. I made an educated guess, and hinted to you at the Quidditch match that I knew more than I really did, and your reaction told me that I'd guessed correctly."

"You mean you were BLUFFING?" Snape groaned. "I can't believe I was stupid enough to fall for that!"

"I'm sorry, Severus," she said with an amused but contrite smile. "I still don't know exactly what, if anything, there is between you and Lupin, and I won't ask. And I will keep my guesses to myself from now on." But her best guess was that he was in love with Lupin, whether or not his feelings were returned, because she knew from experience that only love could make someone as practical and wary as Snape behave so foolishly. To her surprise, she found that she hoped Lupin did indeed return his feelings, because he deserved some measure of happiness in exchange for all that he had done and risked for her son, and for the Order of the Phoenix.

"You had better, if you know what's good for you," Snape growled. 

He turned to leave, but Ariane placed a hand on his arm, and he looked back at her suspiciously. "Thank you, Severus," she said quietly. Her gray eyes met his startled black ones, and a look of understanding passed between them. She no longer needed to ask him to look after Dylan, because she knew he would do it on his own without being asked; could not, in fact, be stopped from doing it, even if his own Headmaster had ordered it.

"You're welcome," Snape said, just as quietly. Then he cleared his throat and said gruffly, "I'll return to give Dylan his lessons in a few days." Looking grumpy and embarrassed, he said, "If there's nothing else, I'll be on my way..." Ariane smiled and took a step back, and Snape Disapparated, leaving her alone.

*** 

Meanwhile, Lupin, Sirius, and Branwen were sharing a celebratory drink in the kitchen of the Grimmauld Place house. "Well, Sirius," Branwen said, "your name has been cleared, so you are now a free man. And since I was seen at the Ministry of Magic, there is no longer any point in hiding my return, either. To freedom!"

"To freedom," Lupin and Sirius echoed. The three friends clinked their wine glasses together, and took a sip of a particularly fine vintage that Sirius had fetched up from the wine cellar.

"So what will you do now, Branwen?" Sirius asked. "Move back into Blackmore Manor, I suppose?" He was surprised to find that, despite their many quarrels, the thought of her moving out made him a little sad.

"Oh, I intend to fix up my family home," Branwen said. "But it's in a rather remote location, and a bit too big just for Bane and myself. I thought for the time being, I might continue to stay here...if you don't mind, that is." She smiled at Sirius, a little hesitantly, as if not quite sure of her welcome.

"Of course!" Sirius said heartily. "The more the merrier! This house is way too big just for me and Remus." He grinned mischievously. "Besides, we'll need some help with the cooking and cleaning, now that Kreacher's gone--not that he was ever much help to begin with." Dumbledore had whisked off the house-elf to some unknown location, where he could do no harm, to himself or anyone else.

"I can summon some minor elementals or household spirits to help with such things," Branwen said casually. "Though now that you are a free man, you don't actually have to stay here anymore..."

"That's right!" Sirius exclaimed. He didn't have to live in this gloomy old house anymore; he could rent an apartment or small house, perhaps in Hogsmeade, to be near his godson...but he would miss Lupin and Branwen. "Well, I've kind of gotten used to it, I suppose--and besides, someone has to keep the headquarters in order."

"But how long will you be staying, Branwen?" Lupin asked. "Now that you've officially returned from the dead, will you apply to teach at Hogwarts again?"

"I don't know," she replied. "My specialty, Summonings, is still banned from the curriculum, though Albus is trying to persuade the school governors to change their minds."

"You could teach Defense Against the Dark Arts," Lupin suggested with a grin. "I hear there's an opening." Umbridge had apparently had a nervous breakdown after her encounter with the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest.

"I could," she said, smiling back at him, "but I think Albus is campaigning for you to take over your old post."

"Me?" Lupin asked in surprise. "But after the parents' protests two years ago, and the anti-werewolf legislation Umbridge passed--"

"Yes, Umbridge who is now disgraced," Branwen said with a smile of dark satisfaction. "And you are a hero now, you know, Remus. You helped to save Harry Potter and fight off the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters." Lupin looked even more startled. "Certainly that is the picture Dumbledore is painting, and he now has all his old influence back, and more." She grinned and made an expansive gesture with her arms. "We are all heroes--we have fought off the Death Eaters and alerted the world to the return of You-Know-Who! We might as well ride out the wave of sentiment, and take advantage of it while it lasts."

"Wait a minute!" Sirius said indignantly. "You can't both run off to Hogwarts and leave me alone here!"

Lupin and Branwen laughed. "Well, Sirius," Branwen said, "it's by no means guaranteed that either of us will have a job there. But as I said, you are a free man, now. You can come visit us anytime you like; you can even take up residence in Hogsmeade if you wish."

Sirius cheered up considerably at that thought. "That's right, I could! Say, are there any other openings at Hogwarts? Then we could all be together--"

Branwen burst out laughing, nearly falling off her chair, at the thought of Sirius becoming a teacher. Bane squawked, flapping his wings to keep his balance on her shoulder, as his mistress tipped back in her chair. Then he began to laugh too, a raucous cawing noise. Even Lupin chuckled a little.

Sirius scowled at the trio. "It's not _that_ funny," he complained in an offended tone.

"Sorry, Sirus," Lupin said with a smile. "I just can't picture you being patient enough to handle a classroom full of unruly children."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call Snape 'patient,' either," Sirius pointed out sulkily.

Branwen wiped tears of laughter from her eyes, saying, "Yes, Professor Snape is known for his notoriously short temper. But he does have more patience than you give him credit for, Sirius. He has been playing the role of the loyal Death Eater since he was eighteen years old, and if he truly had no patience, he would have been unmasked and killed long ago."

Sirius grudgingly admitted to himself that he probably could not have pulled it off himself, but nothing short of an Imperius Curse would ever make him admit it out loud. "Okay, okay," he muttered. "It was just a thought."

Branwen said soothingly, "You could apply to become an Auror again. Or, now that you can move freely once more, Albus will probably have many tasks for the Order that you can perform."

"Maybe I can help Moony on his missions," Sirius said brightly. "You and me together, Moony, it'll be just like old times..."

A look of alarm filled Lupin's blue eyes; his missions were mainly diplomatic ones, and he could not imagine anyone more ill-suited to diplomacy than his reckless, impulsive friend. "Er...um..." he stammered, stalling for time while he tried to come up with a tactful way to tell Padfoot that was not a good idea.

As it turned out, he didn't have to. Bane flew up into the air with an indignant squawk as Branwen tipped back her chair again, overcome with laughter. "Sirius? A DIPLOMAT? HA HA HA HA!"

Lupin smiled apologetically as Sirius protested, "It's not _that_ funny!"

*** 

They polished off that bottle of wine, and most of a second, before Lupin, looking a little tipsy, bid his friends goodnight, giving Sirius a hug and Branwen a rather sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Better not let Snape catch you kissing anyone else," Sirius warned.

"S'okay," Lupin giggled. "He's afraid of Branwen. And anyway, Branwen kissed him too, after he healed you!" Sirius scowled a little, hating to be reminded that he owed his life to Snape, but Lupin didn't seem to notice. "So now we're even!"

"I'm not sure I follow that logic, but whatever you say, dear," Branwen said indulgently. "Now go upstairs and get some sleep." She was looking at him with an almost motherly kind of affection, and Sirius grinned. Well, sort of motherly, anyway--he couldn't picture Molly Weasley smiling indulgently if any of her brood got drunk, even the ones who were of age!

"Yes, Professor," Lupin said meekly, and stumbled out of the room.

"I hope he makes it upstairs without tripping and breaking his neck," said Sirius, shaking his head slightly. "Werewolves can't hold their drink, I guess." Sirius himself felt pleasantly mellow, but not drunk.

Branwen smiled at him; as far as Sirius could tell, she wasn't drunk either--which was just as well, he supposed. It probably wasn't a good idea for a sorceress of her power to get rip-roaring drunk, particularly not one who had the ability to summon demons...

"I think Remus is not used to indulging," Branwen was saying, breaking into Sirius's thoughts. "As a werewolf, he has fought all his life to keep control of himself, and this--" She held up her wineglass. "--represents a loss of control. It's a good sign, I think, that he feels safe enough with us to let down his guard enough to enjoy a few glasses of wine." 

She started to say something else, then changed her mind and fell silent, but Sirius suspected he knew what she was going to say: that it was also thanks to Snape and the Wolfsbane Potion he'd helped to create that Remus no longer feared his inner wolf. Sirius frowned a little as he stared into his wineglass, twirling the stem between his fingers and watching the dark red liquid swirl around in the glass. 

Tonight was the first time since Remus had returned from Hogwarts that they had been able to laugh and joke easily with each other; up till now, things had been a little strained between them. They still had not spoken of the fact that Remus had tried to stop Snape from saving Sirius, but it hung over them like a spectre, casting a pall over what should otherwise have been a happy time: Harry had been rescued, and Sirius's name was cleared. But Sirius brooded quietly to himself, hurt that his best friend would have let him die rather than let Snape risk his life to save him. Not that he was pleased about being indebted to Snape, either! And Snape was Remy's lover, but still...he saw Branwen watching him, a thoughtful look in her green eyes, and then he realized that something else had been nagging at his subconscious.

"Say...Bran...?" Sirius asked hesitantly.

"'Bran'?" his former teacher asked, raising her eyebrows, and Bane gave him a malevolent look.

Sirius laughed. "Sorry, Professor. It just slipped out. You don't like nicknames?"

"'Bran'--it makes me sound like a muffin or a bowl of cereal," she complained.

"Bran _wen_ , then," Sirius said with a smile.

"Yes, Sirius?"

His playful expression suddenly turned solemn. "Harry told me that you held Remus back so Snape could cast the Blood Healing spell on me."

"Yes, that's correct," she said calmly.

"Why?!" Sirius burst out. "My own best friend tried to stop Snape, so why would you let him risk his life for me? Snape's always been your favorite; together you and Remy could've stopped him--so why'd you let him do it?"

Branwen stared at him for a moment, then to his complete and utter surprise, said, "I love all three of you, Sirius." She smiled a little as his mouth dropped open in shock. "I should let Albus give you the same lecture he gave Severus, about love not being like a pie. Love is not something you can divide up into pieces, Sirius. I wouldn't say that I love him more, but yes, I have always been especially protective of Severus, probably for the same reasons that Remus is."

When she did not elaborate, Sirius said impatiently, "Which are...?"

"Pain and loneliness and bitterness. Emotions with which I am very familiar." Sirius looked startled. "My parents were murdered when I was fifteen years old, Sirius. I had no close friends and few people I could trust. Like Severus, I learned to wear a mask, learned to keep up a cold and unyielding appearance so that no one would see how much I hurt inside. I never became as embittered as Severus, but I had Bane to comfort me, and my teachers to help me; my family was eccentric but loving, so I never learned that complete distrust of humanity that Severus did. But would it surprise you, Sirius, to know that I also faced temptation? Do you recall the conversation we had after Rosier and Wilkes were killed? How we argued about Severus, and I told you how hard it is to resist temptation when you stand alone?"

"Yes," Sirius murmured. "You said by taking Remus from him, I took away his support, that he might have been able to resist Voldemort with Remus's help." 

"I was speaking from experience, Sirius. I too, was tempted to turn to the Dark Arts." Seeing Sirius's shocked and horrified expression, Branwen added, "Oh, not to join Voldemort, for I suspected he was behind my parents' deaths, but to use my powers to take revenge for those deaths. I was tempted to summon Araqiel; thanks to his pledge, and the spell he and Regan laid upon the house, all that I would need to do would be to spill a drop of my blood on the floor. I could have loosed a Demon Prince and all his minions upon the world, could have used them to kill anyone even remotely connected with my parents' deaths..."

Sirius shuddered a little, at the thought of so much power lying in the hands of a grief-stricken child, and Branwen nodded grimly.

"But...I did not. Because, once summoned, demons are not so easily dismissed, and they probably would have killed innocents along with the guilty. Because that was not what my parents would have wanted. And because, although I was mostly alone, I still had the support of teachers like Dumbledore and McGonagall. And so my moment of temptation passed. Severus was utterly alone, and he succumbed to temptation, but at least he did finally realize he was wrong, and he has spent the rest of his life trying to atone for his mistakes. I suspect, no matter what he does, no matter how many lives he saves, no matter how many people offer him forgiveness, he will never feel like it has been enough."

Sirius was quiet for a long moment. Branwen and Lupin were making it harder and harder for him to keep hating Snape, damn them! Finally he said, "That still doesn't answer my question. If you loved him and wanted to protect him, why did you let him risk his life for me?"

"Because he's an adult, Sirius, and it was his choice to make, right or wrong, foolish or wise. It was not my place to stop him. And...he did it out of love, Sirius."

Sirius scowled. "Are you sure? He rubbed it in my face, taunted me with it, that Remus would rather have let me die than let him risk his life..."

Branwen sighed. "Even Severus would not risk his life just to spite you, Sirius. It was love that motivated him, in a rather twisted, bitter sort of way. He is, as I told Harry, a complicated man. I think he has always believed that Remus loved you more than him, which is why he hates you so much. And that is why he was willing to sacrifice his life--not for you, but for Remus, whom he believed loved and needed you. Which he does, but not more than he loves and needs Severus." She smiled helplessly and shook her head. "A rather complex and tangled situation..."

Sirius sat there, feeling rather stunned. He gulped down the rest of his wine in an attempt to calm himself, and muttered, "Just like Snape, to turn a noble act into something twisted and self-pitying..."

He expected Branwen to start chewing him out as she usually did when he made snide comments about Snape, but she just sighed and said, "Both Severus and Remus seem to have a bit of a martyr complex, I'm afraid."

Sirius thought of Remus, stubbornly living in poverty for years, rather than relying on the "charity" of friends, and of Snape, doggedly risking his life playing spy all these years, without seeking any credit for his heroics. He thought of them both, suffering in silence and pining after their first loves for nearly twenty years, and he sighed in disgust. "Two masochists--they make a perfect couple," he muttered.

Branwen laughed a little, and Sirius managed a small smile. Still, he could not let go of the thought that Remus would have let him die; he kept prodding at it, as one can't help but probe at a sore tooth with one's tongue, no matter how much it hurts...

"Don't be angry at Remus," Branwen said softly. "It's an impossible choice, to choose between the lives of two people you love. If Remus had been able to cast the spell himself, would you have wanted him to risk his life for yours?"

"Of course not!"

"But it's all right for Severus to risk his life? Because you don't care if he lives or dies?"

"That's not what I meant!" Sirius protested, his face turning red with shame.

"All right," Branwen said calmly. "What if it were Harry's life at stake; would you let Remus risk his life then?"

"No, because I'd do it! Harry's my godson--"  
 Suppose you weren't there," Branwen said patiently. "Then would you let Remus take the risk?" Sirius hesitated. "Or would you just let Harry die?"

"I--I don't know," Sirius stammered. "How could I make a choice like that?"

"Would you let Harry risk his life for Remus?"

"No!" Sirius burst out, then looked startled, and a little guilty. 

"Why not?" Branwen asked, her green eyes narrowing as she stared at Sirius intently. 

"Be-because Harry's a child! We're supposed to protect him, not the other way around!" Sirius scowled as Branwen smiled, recalling she had thrown almost those very same words in his face last year, when she had accused him of treating Harry like James--treating him too much like a friend, and not enough like a godson. "I don't see what any of this has to do with Snape! He's hardly a child!"

"No, but Remus sees him as being in need of protection," Branwen replied. "In a roundabout way, you could consider it a compliment." Sirius stared at her uncomprehendingly, and she patiently explained, "You're strong enough to stand on your own, Sirius. You've always been brave, confident, popular, and able to take care of yourself." She paused, perhaps thinking of all the times she had accused him of behaving childishly, and added dryly, "Well, most of the time, anyway. Severus, despite all his bluster and his outward pretense of not caring about anyone, is far more insecure, lonely, and vulnerable. He always has been, and the time he spends with the Death Eaters probably doesn't do wonders for his mental health and stability. He needs Remus, Sirius, more than you do. Note that I said 'needs,' not 'loves'."

Sirius recalled how Lupin had tried to explain that Snape's hostility towards him had been born out of jealousy and insecurity. But it was so hard to reconcile the arrogant, acerbic Potions Master with the image of the lonely, needy boy that Remus and Branwen painted. "But--"

"You can choose to make an issue of it," Branwen said coldly. "But you will only hurt Remus needlessly." She added in a more gentle voice, "Remus doesn't love you any less, but there are times when the needs of one's mate or spouse must come before those of one's friends--even a best friend or a blood brother. Perhaps one day you will understand, when you fall in love and marry--providing you can find someone willing to marry you."

"BRANWEN!"

She giggled, looking surprisingly girlish, and said, "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for," but didn't look very contrite. "Well, perhaps a better analogy would be, one day you may find that you must put the needs of your godson ahead of the needs of your friend, but that won't mean that you love Remus any less."

"All right," Sirius conceded, not liking it but unable to argue with her logic. "I won't give Moony a hard time about it. But," he added stubbornly, "I still don't like Snape."

"Well, Snape doesn't like you," Branwen pointed out. "So you're even. But in some ways, Severus understands the concept of love better than you do, Sirius."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded indignantly.

"When you truly love someone, you care more about their happiness than your own." Branwen drained her glass of wine, said, "Well, goodnight, Sirius," then rose from her seat and left the room.

"She's got teaching in her blood, all right," Sirius muttered. "Always lecturing!" But he felt guilt stirring inside him as he thought about his behavior over the past year. Had he ever once thought about what Lupin, or for that matter, Harry, needed? He recalled how he'd accused Harry of being cowardly, when he didn't want Sirius to risk coming to visit him in Hogsmeade, recalled how he'd fought with Remus over Snape. _Me, me, me,_ he thought miserably, _it was all about me! "I'm lonely, I'm tired of being cooped up in this house all the time, I don't want that slimy git in my house"--all I ever thought about was myself! I didn't realize how hard a time Harry was having at school, or how lonely Moony was without Snape; I was too busy feeling sorry for myself..._

But was Snape really any better? After all, he was the one who had exposed Remus as a werewolf and forced him to leave Hogwarts; not exactly a noble act. Sirius almost felt smug for a moment, before his conscience began nagging at him. Against his will, memories from last summer popped into his head: Lupin sitting by the fire reading a book, looking up and smiling as Snape bent down to kiss him on the cheek; Lupin in wolf-form, lying in Snape's lap, as Snape smiled down at the wolf almost tenderly, scratching behind its ears; and Snape just returned from his meeting with the Death Eaters, his black eyes haunted and despairing, his voice raw and hoarse from screaming, taking Lupin into his arms and clinging to him desperately... 

Sirius squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, and polished off what remained of the second bottle of wine. Snape had, apparently, helped to create the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin, this fact having been discovered only because the co-creator, Naoto Kamiyama, had spilled the beans to Lupin. And Snape, however twisted and self-pitying his reasons, had risked his life to save Sirius because he thought it would make Lupin happy. Sirius shook his head in disgust; who knew what really went on in the Potions Master's pointy little head? Trying to understand how Snape thought was giving him a headache... 

_Or maybe it's the wine,_ he thought fuzzily. He briefly contemplated going down to the cellar for another bottle, then decided against it; he was probably going to have a hangover tomorrow morning as it was. He yawned and pushed back his chair, then headed to bed; trying to figure out how he and Snape and Lupin were going to deal with each other could wait until tomorrow...

*** 

The break-in at the Ministry of Magic had been a complete disaster; Gwydion had been lucky to escape unharmed--he had been lucky to escape, periodl! With a little less luck, he would be languishing in Azkaban with Malfoy and the others right now, although going to Azkaban might be easier than facing his mother's wrath if she ever found out he had made a pact with Voldemort.

So when the Mark began burning on his arm, he was tempted to ignore the Dark Lord's summons. But the longer he ignored it, the worse the pain got, until sweat was beading on his forehead, and he tasted blood in his mouth as he bit down on his lower lip to repress a cry of pain. Meanwhile, Gilbert was clutching his arm and moaning out loud. Gwydion frowned; their supply of the Mind Restoration Potion was running low...the Dark Lord doled it out to them a few bottles at a time, no doubt to ensure their loyalty. Gwydion cursed under his breath and reached into the back of his closet for a pair of hooded black robes...

 

The Dark Lord had gathered his Death Eaters around him; their ranks were much reduced after the failed mission to steal the prophecy. Gwydion couldn't be sure, since everyone was masked, but he didn't think that Severus Snape was among them this time. He recalled how the Hogwarts teacher had fawned over his Master, kneeling at the Dark Lord's feet; he had always suspected that slimy bastard was still a Death Eater, though he had supposedly reformed. And since Snape had testified on Ariane's behalf, that probably meant his sister had been a Death Eater after all, fifteen years ago. Beneath his mask, Gwydion frowned; as much as he hated Snape, he was disappointed by the Potions Master's absence, since Snape was the one who brewed the potion that kept Gilbert sane.

Then Voldemort's words broke into his thoughts. "...use your Ministry contacts, Gwydion."

"My Lord?" Gwydion asked, startled.

The Dark Lord's red eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you not paying attention, Gwydion? With Lucius and the others in prison, you are the highest-ranking and most respected wizard in our little group. You do not have a job in the Ministry, but I think we can soon remedy that; there are several job openings now, and I'm sure your friends can put in a good word for you."

"And what is it you want me to do at the Ministry, my Lord?" Their family was wealthy enough so that Gwydion did not have to work--he was not lazy, and in fact worked on researching and developing spells, but he liked to work independently, and on projects of his own choosing. The thought of holding down a normal job was distinctly unappealing to him.

"You will do what Lucius and the others have done," Voldemort said impatiently. "Gather information, and attempt to sway Ministry policy in our favor when possible. If you can get a position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, all the better. I want you to find out all you can about the current security arrangements at Azkaban."

"Azkaban, my Lord?" Gwydion asked, with a sinking feeling in his stomach as he realized what was coming next.

The Death Eaters standing closest to Gwydion and his brother covertly began inching away, not wanting to be near them when their Master lost his temper. "Yes, Gwydion!" Voldemort snapped. "So that we may free our imprisoned comrades, of course!"

"Wait a minute!" shouted Gwydion. "I'll feed you information, but I'm not getting involved in any break-in! Especially not after the way our last mission fell apart! Do you have any idea what would happen if I became publicly exposed as--"

"CRUCIO!" Voldemort shouted, raising his wand, and Gwydion fell screaming to the floor. Gilbert looked terrified, his eyes darting back and forth between his brother and the Dark Lord. His hand started to move towards his wand, then stopped as he saw the look in Voldemort's crimson eyes.

Finally, the Dark Lord ceased the spell. Gwydion lay there, panting helplessly for a moment, then with Gilbert's help, managed to get back to his feet.

"Do you, Gwydion, have any idea what I will do to you if you defy me?" Voldemort asked in a deadly whisper. He pointed his wand, this time at Gilbert, and once again shouted, "Crucio!" Gwydion immediately reached for his wand, but before he could grasp it, found the wands of all his fellow Death Eaters pointed at him. He slowly lowered his hand. "Attempting to attack your Lord, Gwydion," said Voldemort, shaking his head. "A very serious crime. Unfortunately, it is your brother who will pay." He flicked his wand, and Gilbert's pain seemed to increase: his screams grew louder, and he went into convulsions on the floor.

"Stop, my Lord, please stop!" Gwydion shouted. "It was I who defied you; punish me, not my brother!"

"I will punish whomever I please," Voldemort said coldly, but after another minute, ended the spell. Gwydion turned to tend to his brother, but Voldemort raised his wand and shouted, "Imperio!" Gwydion found himself freezing in place. "Come to me, Gwydion," Voldemort said. "Crawl to me on your hands and knees, and show me what a good little Death Eater you are." To his horror, Gwydion found himself sinking to his knees and crawling jerkily across the room, as if he were a puppet, with someone else manipulating the strings. When he reached the Dark Lord, he felt an invisible hand pushing his head down until his lips brushed the hem of Voldemort's robe. "Beg my forgiveness, Gwydion," Voldemort said coldly.

"I beg your forgiveness, Master," Gwydion heard his voice say, then suddenly his body was his own again, and he fell into a trembling heap at Voldemort's feet.

"You seem to have gotten the misguided notion that we exist to serve you, and not the other way around, Donner," the Dark Lord continued in that cold voice. "I trust we have set you straight?"

"Y-yes, Master," Gwydion gasped.

Voldemort reached down and tapped Gwydion's left arm lightly with his wand. "Once that Mark is set on your skin, you belong to me. Permanently. No one is allowed to withdraw from the ranks of the Death Eaters. If you ever try to escape me, Gwydion, I will hunt you down and kill you, no matter where you go, no matter how far you flee. But I will torture your brother--and your mother, too--in front of you before you die. Is that clear, Gwydion?"

"Yes, Master," Gwydion whispered.

"Now, what is it that you are going to do for me?"

"Obtain a position in the Ministry of Magic, preferably in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and help break my comrades out of Azkaban," Gwydion said in a trembling voice. He glanced up, saw Voldemort frowning slightly, and hastily added, "Master."

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Voldemort asked pleasantly. 

"No, Master."

"Very well, you are dismissed." As Gwydion rose to his feet, Voldemort reached out and touched Gwydion's chin with his long, white fingers and tipped his face up. "Oh, and Gwydion?"

"Y-yes, my Lord?" Gwydion asked, unable to repress a shudder.

"Do not disappoint me again."

"Never, my Lord!"

"Good."

As soon as Voldemort released him, Gwydion grabbed his brother and fled. They were still low on the Mind Restoration Potion, but now was probably not a good time to ask for more...

*** 

"Hello, Severus," Lupin said, his eyes lighting up and a smile spreading across his face as Snape entered the Grimmauld Place house. Several other Order members had just arrived or were arriving, and they gave the pair a curious look.

"I'd like a word with you, Lupin," Snape snarled through gritted teeth, grabbing the werewolf by the arm and dragging him off to a more secluded part of the house.

"The meeting starts in ten minutes," Mrs. Weasley called after them, looking worried.

Kingsley Shacklebolt shook his head. "I don't know how Remus can put up with him; if I had to work that closely with Snape, I could probably stand about ten minutes worth of his snide remarks and insults before I'd punch him in the nose."

"You could hardly miss such a big target! But then he'd probably poison you," Tonks giggled, then subsided as Mrs. Weasley frowned disapprovingly at her. 

"Remus is very good-natured," Mrs. Weasley said. "And besides, Severus has his good points."

"Such as?" Tonks asked curiously.

"Well, he is risking his life spying on the Death Eaters," Mrs. Weasley pointed out. "And...er..." She thought for a minute, having difficulty coming up with anything else. "And the children are very well-behaved when he stays for dinner!" she said triumphantly. Tonks gave a little snort of amusement, and Mrs. Weasley frowned again. "And he did give the children Christmas presents, so he can't be as ill-tempered as he seems."

"Yeah, that was a shock," Tonks said, running a hand through her spiky hair. "Just textbooks, but still...who would've thought Severus Snape would have even the tiniest bit of Christmas spirit?"

"And Albus says he saved Sirius's life, after the attack at the Ministry," Mrs. Weasley added, "though he's a bit vague about how that happened."

"Snape saved Black?" Shacklebolt exclaimed. 

Sirius just happened to be coming down the stairs at that moment and scowled. "Yeah, fine, let's give him a medal or something and get it over with!" he said in a disgruntled tone.

They filed into the meeting room, with Mrs. Weasley scolding Sirius, Tonks asking how Snape had saved him, Sirius complaining that he didn't want to talk about it, and Shacklebolt shaking his head and muttering something about hell freezing over.

*** 

Snape crossed his arms and glared at Lupin. "What do you think you're doing?"

Lupin stared back at him innocently. "All I did was say hello. And by the way, I'm glad to see you, too, Severus."

"That's the problem--you look too glad to see me!"

"Aren't you glad to see me, Severus?" Lupin asked, his blue eyes wide and sad.

Snape thought Lupin was making fun of him, but he wasn't entirely sure, so he replied, "Of course I am, but I'm not going to say so in front of the other members."

"I thought we had agreed, that we needn't hide from the Order--"

"No, you and Blackmore agreed! I didn't have any say in it!"

Now Lupin looked genuinely sad. "Why are you so ashamed of us, Severus?"

"I'm not ashamed!" he snapped. "I'm trying to protect you!"

"Do you really think our fellow Order members will tell the Death Eaters that we're lovers?"

"No, but our ranks have grown...it's not wise to trust that many people with a secret, Lupin. A secret shared has a way of spreading...and quite frankly, I don't really trust all of our members. Especially Mundungus Fletcher; I wouldn't trust him not to steal anything that's not nailed down, and I certainly wouldn't trust him with secrets about our love life!"

"Fine, not everyone, but the core members...the ones who spend a lot of time in this house. Kingsley, Tonks, Moody, Molly and Arthur..."

"What would you like to do, Lupin," Snape asked sarcastically, "make an announcement at dinner?"

"That would be nice," Lupin laughed, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Snape gave him an exasperated look. "Why is this so important to you?"

"Because," he said, looking serious now, "I'm tired of hiding and sneaking around. It's not like I'm saying we should stroll through Hogsmeade holding hands, Severus, but in the comfort of my own home, I'd like to be able to smile at you. I'd like to be able to kiss you on the cheek without looking around to see if anyone's watching. I'd like you to spend nights over more often. I'd like to be able to go upstairs and make love to you without concocting some excuse about working on a secret project for Dumbledore. Hell, I'd just like to be able to have a pleasant conversation at dinner with you, without you insulting me so that no one will suspect we're lovers!"

Snape looked a little stunned at his lover's outburst. Lupin smiled at him, then said softly, "And most of all, I'd like to know that you're not ashamed of me."

"I'm not--"

"I know you're very concerned about my safety, Severus, but I also know that's not the only reason you've been hiding our relationship," Lupin said implacably.

"I...I...I'm not..." Snape faltered, not exactly sure how to explain it to Lupin, because he wasn't sure he understood it himself.

Lupin's expression softened, and he reached out to caress Snape's cheek. "I know I'm giving you a hard time, Severus. I'm not sure why it bothers me so much." He sighed. "Maybe because I spent so many years hiding my lycanthropy and being ashamed of who I was..."

"I'm not ashamed of you, Lupin!" Snape insisted, putting his arms around Lupin's waist and drawing him close, feeling guilty that he'd caused his lover such pain. Then he remembered that Lupin preferred to be called by his first name, and felt guilty about that, too. "I never meant to make you feel that way, Remus. I'm not ashamed that you're male, or that you're a werewolf, if that's what you're worried about."

"Or that I'm a Gryffindor?" Lupin laughed.

"Well, that would be quite a scandal," Snape agreed, pleased that Lupin was able to joke about it. "But that's not it, either. You're everything a Gryffindor is supposed to be--brave and noble and handsome--"

"I don't recall hearing 'handsome' in the Sorting Hat's song," Lupin said, but he flushed with pleasure.

"--but without the usual Gryffindor arrogance," Snape added, unable to resist that little dig at his rival House. "Anyone would be pleased to have you for a lover."

"Well, perhaps not everyone--"

"Well, they should be!" Snape said indignantly, and Lupin laughed again. "If anything, people would wonder what you see in me--ill-tempered, arrogant, sneaky, greasy-haired, big-nosed Slytherin that I am."

"I love your nose, Severus," Lupin said, kissing the tip of it.

"I know you do, Lu--Remus," Snape smiled. "It's not you, it's me." Snape sighed, his smile fading. "It's hard to explain...I'm...scared, I suppose," he admitted in a low voice.

"Of what, Severus?" Lupin asked gently.

"I don't know," he said helplessly. "You have to understand, Remus, my father always taught me that sentiment is for fools--and in Slytherin, people would use your feelings as a weapon against you if they could. Look at how Lucius used Evan's love for Ariane to manipulate him. And the Dark Lord probably used Gwydion's love for his brother to lure him into the Death Eaters. Not that Gwydion Donner isn't an evil, self-centered bastard, but he does love his brother. People who wear their hearts on their sleeves betray their weaknesses, Lupin," Snape said, unconsciously repeating what he had said to Potter during their first Occlumency lesson. "The Dark Lord used Potter's love for Black to lure him into that trap..."

"I see," Lupin murmured. "You're afraid of exposing your weaknesses. But love isn't always a weakness, Severus. It's a strength as well. Love saved Dylan Rosier."

Snape stared at Lupin disbelievingly. "Are you out of your mind, Lupin? The Dark Lord used Dylan's love for his mother to force him to join the Death Eaters!"

"He took the Mark, yes, but it was that same love that prevented him from handing over his soul to Voldemort as well. And it was your love, Severus, that made him question his idealized view of the Death Eaters, that made him trust you enough to come to you and tell you what had happened." 

Snape turned red, feeling extremely uncomfortable; he had grudgingly admitted to himself that he cared about Dylan, but had never used the word "love" to describe his feelings for the boy. That didn't seem to stop Dumbledore and Lupin from doing so, though.

Lupin grinned, as if reading his mind. Snape sourly thought to himself that Occlumency was no defense against a particularly perceptive and sometimes annoying werewolf lover. "And there is of course Lily's love for Harry," Lupin said softly. "Her love saved Harry's life and gave him the means to defeat Voldemort when he was only a baby. You can't get any stronger than that."

"I suppose not," Snape muttered. "All right," he sighed, giving in. "No more sneaking around, no more insulting you at the dinner table--but only among the people we trust."

"Thank you, Severus," Lupin said, smiling at him tenderly. "I know it's difficult for you, but it means a lot to me."

"But we don't have to advertise it, either, do we?" Snape asked plaintively.

"No announcements at the dinner table," Lupin agreed, then added slyly, "and no making out in front of the children!"

"Pity you didn't think of that before you kissed me right in front of Potter!" grumbled Snape.

Lupin laughed and nuzzled Snape's cheek affectionately. "I love you, Severus."

"I love you, Remus," Snape said, still sounding a bit grumpy, but he pulled Lupin closer and kissed him, lightly at first, then more deeply. He was aware that they would be late for the meeting, but it was all Lupin's fault, really it was, for pressing his body against Snape's, for entwining his hands firmly in Snape's hair, for having such delectably soft lips that parted so eagerly for Snape's tongue...

Just then the door swung open, and they heard Tonks's cheerful voice saying, "Remus, Severus? Are you in here, the meeting's about to--OH!"

Snape jumped away from Lupin, yelling, _"Ouch!"_ when Lupin didn't untangle his hands from Snape's hair fast enough. He rubbed his head, expecting to find a bare and bloody patch of scalp, but his hair was still fastened to his head--mostly, anyway; a blushing Lupin was still holding onto a few black strands.

The young witch's eyes were as wide as saucers and her mouth was hanging open. "I...uh...didn't mean to interrupt," she said weakly, staring at the two wizards who were both turning a deep shade of crimson, although Snape looked mortified, while Lupin looked almost amused. "It's just that, um, the meeting is starting and Molly sent me to look for you two..." She quickly turned and fled back in the direction of the meeting room.

"Well, looks like there's no need to announce it at dinner," Lupin said cheerfully.

Snape glared at him. "Come on, we have to catch up with her before she tells everyone at the meeting!"

"I doubt she'll say a word while you've got that 'if looks could kill' expression in your eyes," Lupin said, as he ran after his lover.

"That's the general idea, Lupin," Snape said in a huffy tone as he rushed to catch up with Tonks. 

Lupin just laughed, allowing himself to fall a step or two behind to admire the way Snape's robe billowed out dramatically behind him as he ran. _Sneaky Slytherin or not, you can't deny that the man's got style!_ he thought delightedly.

*** 

Tonks, Snape, and Lupin hurried into the meeting room and took seats at the long table, where everyone else was already assembled. Tonks dropped into a chair next to Sirius, while Lupin and Snape found seats on the other side of the table.

"What took so long?" Sirius asked, frowning.

Tonks opened her mouth, then caught Snape giving her a murderous look from across the table. "N-nothing," she muttered, her cheeks turning pink. Her cousin gave her a suspicious look, but she didn't notice, as she was too busy wondering if she had really seen Severus Snape kissing one of his worst enemies. Could she have hallucinated the whole thing? That didn't really make sense either, but it seemed less far-fetched than the idea that Snape might be having a fling with Lupin. _Maybe it's food poisoning,_ she thought. _I knew I shouldn't have had the fish for lunch...it didn't look that fresh. But if the fish had gone bad, shouldn't I have a stomachache...?_

"Will you stop that, Tonks!" Molly Weasley was saying. "It's very distracting!"

"Huh?" the young witch asked, then realized that she had been unconsciously shifting the appearance of her hair and face at random. "Oh, sorry," she said, concentrating and returning her features to normal. "I...uh...think I had some bad fish for lunch."

Molly's expression changed from annoyance to concern. "Are you feeling all right, dear? Perhaps Severus could brew you a tonic--"

"NO!" shouted Tonks, certain that anything Snape gave her would be a deadly poison. As Molly stared at her in shock, she added, "Um...I mean, that's not necessary. I'm fine, really!"

"Well, if you say so, dear..." Molly said dubiously.

Snape was still glowering at Tonks, but Lupin gave her a wink, which made her think that perhaps she really _had_ seen what she thought she saw, and it wasn't the fish after all...

Meanwhile, Dumbledore was calling the meeting to order. He discussed recent events, including the attempted theft of the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. "...Now that the Ministry has finally acknowledged the return of Voldemort--" Several of the assembled witches and wizards squirmed or muttered uneasily. "--our job will be easier. But we must still remain vigilant, and I think it best if the Order continues as a secret society. Not all the Death Eaters were captured, and we do not want to alert our enemy to our plans." Everyone murmured in agreement. "Now allow me to introduce the newest member of our group, Goewin Donner."

Goewin stood, nodding in greeting to her fellow Order members. "My husband was a member of the Order during the first war," she said, "and we will both do whatever we can to aid you. But I fear I have some disturbing and shameful news to share with you today. We have discovered that my nephew, Gwydion Donner, and perhaps his brother Gilbert as well, have become Death Eaters."

Exclamations of surprise rose from the group of wizards. "I always thought he was a smarmy bastard," Moody muttered. "Er--no offense, Goewin."

"None taken. I quite agree, Alastor."

"But I never thought he'd go over to the other side!" Moody continued. "Not after that whole fuss, where he sided with his mother against his sister, when Deirdre disowned Ariane for taking up with a Death Eater."

Others voiced their skepticism more vocally. Gwydion could be quite charming, when he chose to exert himself, and he was popular amongst most of the wizarding community.

"Severus saw him at one of the Death Eaters' meetings, " Goewin said, raising her voice to be heard over the uproar.

All eyes turned to Snape. "Are you sure it was him?" one of Gwydion's supporters demanded. "What could possibly motivate him to go over to You-Know-Who?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Snape said coldly. "As for motivation, do you not recall that the Dark Lord has ordered me to brew a large quantity of Mind Restoration Potion?" The room fell silent. "Everyone knows that Gilbert Donner's mind was damaged in an...ah...unfortunate accident. And everyone knows how devoted Gwydion is to his twin. No doubt that was the bribe the Dark Lord used to lure him--a very effective one, since the effects of the potion are only temporary. He will have to keep coming to the Dark Lord for more. None of the Donners are capable of brewing such a potion, and not even they have enough wealth to purchase a steady supply of it, even if they could find someone willing and able to make it."

"But what does he want Gwydion for?" Shacklebolt wondered out loud.

Snape shrugged. "I don't know yet. Perhaps to be a spy; he would certainly be effective since most people seem to be unwilling to believe he could be a Death Eater," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and venom.

"He could do a lot of damage," agreed Tonks. "Isn't there some way we could arrest him?"

"I cannot testify against him without exposing my cover," Snape pointed out. "And even if I could, I only saw his eyes, since all the Death Eaters are masked. I doubt that would hold up in court, against a member of such a prominent family."

"We will just have to keep a close eye on him for now," Dumbledore said. "Goewin and Mathias will try to keep tabs on him, and Severus will watch from his end as well."

"I never liked Donner," Moody muttered. "But I would have expected his sister's son to be the one to go over..."

Snape glared at Moody, then exchanged glances with Goewin and the Headmaster. They had argued, over whether to reveal Dylan's new status to the entire Order. Snape and Goewin had been against it, for fear of the secret leaking out, but Dumbledore insisted the Order needed to be on the alert, in case Voldemort tried to recruit other children.

"Dylan Rosier was recruited into the Death Eaters recently, but against his will," Dumbledore said quietly.

"Against his will?" Moody asked dubiously.

"Yes, against his will!" Snape snapped. "The Dark Lord threatened to kill his mother if he did not join!"

"Ariane Donner was all but a Death Eater herself," Moody said with a scowl. He had never liked Snape, and he still held a grudge against Evan Rosier, who was responsible for several of his scars and the missing chunk of his nose.

"Ariane remembered how Evan died," Snape said coldly. "And she feared her son might suffer the same fate; she was trying to keep him away from Lucius Malfoy and the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord was not pleased, and decided to recruit Dylan and punish Ariane at the same time."

"I believe Severus, Alastor," Branwen said quietly, and Dumbledore said, "I do as well."

Moody was still scowling, but did not argue further. "It seems odd," he said, "that both Gwydion and the Rosier boy would be recruited around the same time, considering the animosity between Gwydion and his sister."

"Neither Gwydion nor Dylan is yet aware of the other's presence in the Death Eaters," Snape said. "They have never both been present at the same meeting. I think perhaps taking Gwydion was a form of insurance; if Dylan betrays him, then the Dark Lord will use Gwydion to destroy Ariane and her son."

Moody grunted, agreeing with Snape for once. "Twisted bastard, but that would be just like him. Gwydion's an odd choice for a Death Eater, but then nobody expected him to turn Barty Crouch, Junior all those years ago, either." His face filled with rage for a moment, as he remembered how Crouch Junior had kept him imprisoned in a trunk for the better part of a year. Then suddenly, he laughed harshly. "I'd love to see Donner's face, when he realizes that his nephew is one of his fellow Death Eaters!"

Snape glared at Moody; he didn't find the situation nearly so amusing, since he had a personal interest in it. He opened his mouth, but Dumbledore interrupted him before he could speak.

"This is not a laughing matter, Alastor," the Headmaster said sternly. "A child's life is at stake." Moody looked a little embarrassed, but could not bring himself to summon up much sympathy for Evan Rosier's son. Dumbledore continued, "Severus will of course do his best to protect Dylan, but what disturbs me is that Voldemort has recruited so young a child. In the past, of course, he has singled out and recruited likely candidates among the students." This time it was Snape's turn to look embarrassed. "But never before has an underage wizard been made a full-fledged Death Eater. All the others were at least eighteen when they took the Dark Mark."

"It's partly a matter of practicality," Snape said, still looking discomposed. "Few students below their seventh year are able to Apparate. If they can't Apparate, they can't answer the Dark Lord's summons, at least, not without help."

"So the question is," Lupin said quietly, "why has the Dark Lord recruited a child? Is there something special about Dylan, or is this the beginning of a new trend?"

"The children!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, looking horrified. "Are they in danger? We've got to do something to protect them!"

"I doubt the Dark Lord will be recruiting among the Gryffindors," Snape said acerbically, then winced as Lupin kicked him hard under the table. He glared at Lupin, who glared right back at him, then continued, "It is the students of my own House who are most at risk." 

He was about to add, "Not that anyone cares about them," but Mrs. Weasley said quietly, "I meant that we should protect all the students at Hogwarts, Severus."

"Oh," Snape said, feeling slightly ashamed of himself. "Well, of course we will be watching the students carefully, particularly the Slytherins, and the protections on the school have been increased--"

"I'm not sure that's enough," Mrs. Weasley said with a worried frown. "Perhaps their trips to Hogsmeade should be curtailed?"

Snape was sure her brats would complain loudly about that, but it wasn't really his problem. "Perhaps," he agreed. "Or at least supervised."

"I'll take it under advisement," Dumbledore said. "Have you seen any signs of recruitment, however subtle, amongst your students, Severus?"

"Other than Dylan, no," Snape replied. "Some of their parents have filled their heads with glorious promises of a future where the Dark Lord and his followers reign supreme, and those children are probably quite eager to join, but so far I have seen no sign that the Dark Lord wishes to recruit them yet."

"Then it must be something special about Dylan," Branwen said, her forehead furrowed in thought. 

"Dylan is a very talented student," Snape said, "but I don't see anything about him exceptional enough for the Dark Lord to want him so young. Maybe he only took Dylan because he feared Ariane would join our side if he waited too long."

"Maybe," Branwen murmured, but didn't look convinced.

"The boy is the last living Rosier, isn't he?" Shacklebolt asked thoughtfully. "Could he lay claim to the Rosier estate?"

Snape frowned. "I thought the courts confiscated the Rosier fortune and lands." Evan Rosier's parents had not been actual Death Eaters, but they had supported the Dark Lord's ideals, and secretly funneled money to him through their son. And when their only child had been killed by Aurors, the Rosiers, mad with grief, had attacked a group of Aurors in revenge, and been killed as well. Since they had been deemed criminals, and the last living heir was still in Ariane's womb and unable to assert his rights, the Rosier estate had been declared forfeit and confiscated by the Ministry of Magic.

"The money they had in Gringotts was confiscated, as was most of their property," said Dumbledore. "But the family house, and the land on which it stands, was so heavily warded with protective spells that no one was able to enter it. It stands to this day, empty and fallen into disrepair."

"Perhaps You-Know-Who wants more wealth to fund his projects?" Tonks suggested.

Snape frowned. "He's not short of funds that I know of, and the bulk of the Rosier fortune would have been stored in the Gringotts vaults, anyway."

"The Rosiers were practitioners of the Dark Arts," Shacklebolt said. "Could they have some sort of Dark Magic items or spellbooks that the Dark Lord might want?"

"Not that I know of," Snape replied. "While I'm sure they did possess such things, I doubt they had anything powerful enough to turn the tide of the war, or surely Evan would have handed it over to the Dark Lord while he was still alive."

"His parents didn't want to get openly involved until their son died," Moody reminded him in a low, growling voice. "Perhaps they did have some kind of weapon that they wouldn't share or that your friend Rosier didn't know about."

Snape glared at Moody. "Then they would have used it on you, if they had such a thing, after you killed their son! Besides, the Malfoys are much more wealthy and powerful than the Rosiers ever were. If Lucius doesn't possess such a weapon, it's highly unlikely that the Rosiers would have, either."

"It was rumored that the ancestors of the Rosiers were demon-worshippers," Dedalus Diggle said in an excited voice. "Maybe--"

Branwen rolled her eyes and said, "People said the same thing about my ancestors as well!"

"Yes, but in your case, the rumors were true!" Sirius laughed.

The other Order members stared at Branwen uneasily; except for the Headmaster and her three former students, the knowledge that she had demon blood made them extremely nervous. "I would have heard, I'm sure, if there were any demons bound in service to the Rosiers," Branwen said impatiently. "And even if they were demon-worshippers, Dylan Rosier has no idea how to summon a demon! Besides, I'm sure Voldemort knows how to perform the rituals to summon a demon already; he just isn't foolish enough to play a game that he knows I can best him at." Her green eyes looked more strange and otherworldly than usual, and were filled with the unconscious arrogance of someone secure enough in her power to fear almost nothing. "Especially now that he knows I'm still alive. If he didn't already know, he must have suspected that I had the ability to summon demons after the bodies of three of his best mages were found ripped to pieces after they tried to kill me."

Diggle was looking a little green around the gills, while Mrs. Weasley was staring at Branwen--who had helped her cook in the kitchen and look after her children--with something like horror. Tonks was staring at the dark-haired sorceress as well, but with fascination; she had heard only the bare bones version of Branwen's disappearance and return, and would have liked to have heard the full story. To her disappointment, Snape cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"It seems unlikely, then, that the Dark Lord wants Dylan Rosier for the purpose of demon summoning," he said in a sarcastic voice. "And as no one has any better guesses, we shall just have to wait for the Dark Lord to reveal his motives."

Nobody was really happy about that, but there was nothing they could do about it. It was agreed that a close eye would be kept on Gwydion Donner and Dylan Rosier. There was no other new business, other than a warning from Snape that the Dark Lord would probably try to break his captive Death Eaters out of Azkaban, but he had no idea when or how. Again, there was nothing they could do but be on their guard.

"I'm sure the Ministry is already aware of the danger," Shacklebolt sighed. "But I'll try to pass along the warning. Perhaps this time they'll be less complacent, now that they're finally aware of the truth."

"Miracles can always happen, I suppose," Snape muttered sardonically.

*** 

The meeting was adjourned, and most of the wizards left. Molly Weasley stayed behind "to cook a proper meal" for Sirius, Lupin, and Branwen.

"I know how to cook," Sirius protested, but didn't complain overmuch.

Dumbledore stayed behind; he wanted to talk to Mrs. Weasley about the possibility of Harry spending the second half of the summer living at Grimmauld Place with his friends again. And since they liked Mrs. Weasley's cooking, Tonks and Shacklebolt stayed behind as well. Snape was relieved to see that Moody left; he didn't like the former Auror under the best of circumstances, and he liked him even less today, after the remarks he had made about Dylan.

Tonks could not tear her eyes away from Snape and Lupin, and finally Sirius leaned over and whispered, "Why are you staring at Snape? Please don't tell me you're attracted to that slimy git!"

"Er...no, it's not that," Tonks replied, turning to face her cousin. She wondered if he knew what was going on between Lupin and Snape; the werewolf was his best friend, after all. "Um, could I talk to you in private?" she asked quietly. Sirius looked puzzled, but nodded. They rose from their seats and started to leave, but found Snape blocking their way. 

"Excuse me, Nymphadora," Snape said in an icy voice.

"Call me Tonks, please, Severus," Tonks replied coolly, a little annoyed that Snape had used her first name when he knew perfectly well that she hated it.

"Tonks, then," Snape said, in a falsely pleasant voice that had a sharp edge to it. Sirius started to frown at him, but Snape ignored him. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you to respect the privacy of your fellow Order members, Tonks." He slightly stressed her name as he stared daggers into her eyes.

"Have you got a problem, Snape?" Sirius said loudly, stepping in front of his cousin. Tonks was one of his favorite relatives, and she was young enough that he felt protective of her, although as an Auror she was probably more than capable of defending herself.

"Not with you, Black," Snape replied coolly. "At least, not yet."

"If you've got a problem with my cousin, then you've got a problem with me," Sirius said belligerently.

"Um, Sirius, it's okay, really," Tonks said. But Sirius ignored her, as he continued to glare at Snape. Meanwhile, Shacklebolt was watching the proceedings with a look of keen interest. Dumbledore and Branwen exchanged looks of amusement, looking for all the world like indulgent parents watching their children squabble.

Lupin saw the way Shacklebolt was staring at them and tapped Snape on the shoulder. "Ah, Severus, perhaps you should--"

"Not now, Lupin!" Snape snapped, not taking his eyes off of Sirius's face.

Lupin sighed and turned away, muttering under his breath, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"So what's got a bee up your robe, Snape?" Sirius asked.

"Are all the members of your family incapable of minding their own business, Black?" Snape retorted.

"Hey, that's not fair!" protested Tonks. "It's not like I walked in on you on purpose!"

Snape blinked, a little startled. He had gotten so absorbed in his argument with Black that he had almost forgotten she was there.

"What, did she walk in on one of your 'secret conferences' with Remus?" Sirius sneered. He had only been joking, to try and annoy Snape, but to his surprise both Tonks and Snape blushed. He turned to look at Remus, who was watching them with a look of combined irritation and amusement.

"What's so top-secret about your meetings with Remus, anyway, Snape?" Shacklebolt asked, and three things happened simultaneously:

Branwen began to laugh, and attempted to turn it into a coughing fit; Snape snarled, "None of your business"; and Dumbledore said, "What secret meetings?"

"What?" Shacklebolt asked, not sure he had heard the Headmaster correctly. "You haven't assigned Lupin and Snape to work on a special project together?" Dumbledore shook his head, the little twinkle in his eyes belying the look of innocent bewilderment on his face. "Then what the hell have you two been doing together all this time?!"

Snape's face turned bright red, Sirius began to chortle, Tonks giggled as she continued to blush, and Branwen's "cough" turned into outright laughter. Shacklebolt stared at his fellow Order members, wondering if they had all gone insane.

There was a mischievous gleam in Lupin's blue eyes as he turned to Snape and said, "Shall we tell him what we've been working on, Severus?"

Snape frantically shook his head and began backing away from Lupin, who moved forward like a wolf stalking its prey. "You agreed, no announcements--"

"I think the cat's out of the bag, Severus," Lupin said with a grin. "And we are among people we trust."

"But...but..." Snape stammered. Lupin grinned at him mercilessly. Snape raised his hands, as if to ward off an attack, but it was too late--the wolf pounced. Lupin grabbed the front of Snape's robes, pulled him forward, and firmly clamped his lips down over Snape's, cutting off his protests.

Tonks scratched her head, saying, "Well, I guess I wasn't hallucinating after all." Branwen continued to laugh, Dumbledore beamed happily at his two former students, and Shacklebolt's jaw dropped open. 

Just then, Mrs. Weasley, who had gone to the kitchen to start dinner, walked back into the room, stirring something in a large bowl. "Could someone help me with--" she started to say, then spotted Lupin kissing a struggling Snape. She let out a little shriek and dropped her bowl, spilling batter all over the floor.

Startled, Lupin broke off the kiss and looked up, although he still kept a firm grip on Snape's robes. Snape's face was still red, and he probably would have started yelling at Lupin if not for the fact that he was too busy gasping for breath.

"Y-you..." Mrs. Weasley stammered, staring at Lupin. "A-and Se-Severus?!"

"What's going on?!" Shacklebolt shouted. "Has everyone completely lost their minds?! Has Voldemort drugged the water here or something?!" He was so disconcerted that he didn't even notice that he had said Voldemort's name out loud.

Lupin grinned happily. "No, we're not insane, and I'm not under the influence of anything other than love!"

 _"Love?!"_ exclaimed Mrs. Weasley and Shacklebolt.

Snape had managed to take in enough air to say, "Lupin--!" but his lover immediately cut him off with another fierce kiss. Snape continued to struggle, but his efforts were weaker this time--but only because of the lack of oxygen, he told himself. And the damned werewolf was much stronger than he looked. _"I'm not an alpha wolf"--hah!_ Snape thought. _That little Gryffindor is as sly as a Slytherin!_ Then he felt Lupin's tongue insistently sliding between his lips and completely lost his train of thought. His arms wrapped themselves around Lupin's waist--just for support, he told himself, because he suddenly felt faint. It must be the lack of oxygen, and had absolutely nothing to do with Lupin's kiss...

Lupin sealed his lover's mouth with his own before he could draw breath to protest, kissing him fiercely and relentlessly. This time Severus's struggles were decidedly halfhearted, and stopped altogether when Lupin forced his tongue between his lover's lips. He felt Severus's arms close around him, and Lupin felt his lips trying to curve into a smile as Severus began kissing him back, making eager little noises halfway between a moan and a whimper. Severus, who had spent his entire childhood and most of his young adult years being controlled and manipulated by others, had an obsessive need to be in control, even in bed, and Lupin readily ceded control to his lover most of the time. He didn't mind; as he had once told Severus, he was not really the alpha wolf type. 

But he was finding it strangely exciting, to have Severus yield control to him, to give himself up to Lupin's touch. Perhaps it was the pent-up frustration that had built up over the past year, all the sneaking and hiding, all the lonely nights without his mate, that had suddenly made the wolf so aggressive. _No, it's not really fair to blame it on the wolf,_ Lupin thought. _It's me; I want Severus to acknowledge me, to acknowledge that he loves me, in public._ Well, a handful of Order members in their secret headquarters didn't really count as "public," so Lupin didn't think he was asking for too much.

Lupin finally, and very reluctantly, broke off the kiss, and only because he was starting to feel lightheaded and suddenly realized that he needed to breathe very badly. He released Severus and they both started gasping for air.

"Jeez, Moony, get a room!" Sirius complained, and Lupin laughed, albeit a little breathlessly.

"How long has this been going on?" Tonks asked, her eyes wide again.

"Since...I was...teaching...at...Hogwarts," Lupin replied, taking in gulps of air between words.

"But I thought Snape got you fired!" exclaimed Shacklebolt. "Or was that a cover story as well?"

"It's a very long story," said Lupin.

"And absolutely none of your business," Snape said, his voice still a little weak, but he was glowering menacingly at everyone in the room. His glare only intensified as he turned to his lover and said, "I'm going to kill you, Lupin."

Lupin just leaned forward and gently nuzzled and kissed Snape's neck. "Oh," Snape gasped, his eyelids fluttering shut for a moment as any murderous thoughts he had flew out of his head. His knees almost buckled beneath him, and he had to lean back against the wall for support. 

Lupin stared at him, awed and delighted by the effect he had on his lover. For the first time, he understood what the phrase "drunk with power" meant, because he was experiencing it right now. He knew that Severus loved him and desired him, of course, but had never seen him react this way before; it was really quite intoxicating...

"I'm sure we're all fascinated by your love life, Moony--" Sirius was saying sarcastically.

"Well, actually, we are," Tonks said cheerfully. Mrs. Weasley tried to give her a disapproving look, but found herself unable to look away from Lupin and Snape.

"--but could you two _please_ take it upstairs?" 

"So that's what they've been doing upstairs all this time," Tonks giggled. Mrs. Weasley did glare at her this time. 

Shacklebolt was very, very glad that his skin was too dark to show a blush, because otherwise he was sure that his face would have been as red as Snape's. "Um, it's really none of our business," he said hastily.

"Exactly what I've been saying," Snape said sourly, but the fact that he was still clinging to the wall for support made his words less intimidating than usual.

"Well, I'm sure we're all very happy for the two of you," Mrs. Weasley said in a tone of forced cheer, as Shacklebolt looked at her in askance.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Snape muttered, feeling completely mortified. He was going to kill Lupin as soon he got him alone...if only Lupin would stop giving him that come-hither look with those deceptively innocent blue eyes.

"Can you tell me why you felt the need for this sudden public display of affection?" Sirius asked Lupin, still sounding rather peeved.

"You knew about this, Sirius?" Tonks asked.

"Yeah," he replied, scowling. "I just think it's too bad that Remus has such abominable taste in men."

Snape changed his mind; maybe he'd kill Black first, and _then_ kill Lupin. In fact, he should just poison everyone in the room and get of rid of all the witnesses at once...

Lupin chose to ignore that last remark and answered Sirius's question, "I was just telling Severus that I was tired of all this hiding and sneaking around and making up elaborate excuses to see each other. I figured there's no need to hide it from our trusted friends and colleagues, right?" 

There was no answer, as Shacklebolt, Tonks, and Mrs. Weasley were still in shock. Dumbledore and Branwen just grinned at each other as if they'd been responsible for the whole thing. Which, come to think of it, they probably were, Snape realized, recalling how Professor Blackmore had teamed him and Lupin up on that class project, and how the Headmaster had brought Lupin back to Hogwarts as a teacher. He knew he should be grateful, but right now he wanted to kill them both for looking so damned smug.

"And anyway," Lupin was saying, "Tonks walked in on us while we were kissing, so I figured the whole point was moot." 

Shacklebolt saw Dumbledore and Branwen giving each other conspiratorial smiles and asked, "You two knew about this all along?"

They both grinned widely. "Yes, and I couldn't be happier," Dumbledore cheerfully. 

"They make such a lovely couple, don't they?" Branwen said sweetly. Mrs. Weasley and Shacklebolt stared at her as if she'd gone insane, while Snape glared at his former teacher with a homicidal look in his black eyes. Tonks looked at him nervously, afraid that he might go over the edge and actually attack Branwen, but the object of his glare was unconcerned. It took more than a grumpy Death Eater to intimidate someone who had spent fourteen years living among demons.

In any case, there was no need for Tonks to have worried; all Snape did was turn to Lupin and say caustically, "Are you happy now, Lupin? Or perhaps you'd like to take out an ad in the Daily Prophet?"

Although Snape was speaking to Lupin in his usual sarcastic and unpleasant tone of voice, Shacklebolt was suddenly struck by the realization that their constant bickering was more like that of a long-married couple than a pair of mortal enemies. Well, perhaps bickering was the wrong word, since it was mostly one-sided, on Snape's part, come to think of it...

"No, Severus," Lupin said with a contented smile. "I'm very happy." He leaned against Snape, slipped an arm around his waist, and began nuzzling his neck again.

"LUPIN!" Snape shrieked, trying to disentangle himself from his amorous werewolf lover. "Will you quit pawing at me?!"

"Fine, Severus," Lupin sighed, letting go of him. Then he whispered into Snape's ear, "But that means you'll have to ask me nicely, the next time you want me to paw you."

Snape turned red and glared at him, then attempted to salvage the tattered remains of his pride. "While I'm sure you have all found this vastly entertaining," he said in a cold voice, "I would just like to remind everyone that the reason we kept it quiet to begin with was so that the Death Eaters wouldn't find out. If word should leak out and reach the Dark Lord's ears, it is quite likely that the Order will soon be missing both a werewolf and a spy."

"I'm sure that everyone here understands that, and will keep the information confidential," Branwen said calmly. 

Shacklebolt and Mrs. Weasley nodded, and Tonks grinned, making a zipping gesture across her mouth with her thumb and forefinger.

Mrs. Weasley attempted to break the awkward silence that followed by saying brightly, "I hope this means you'll be staying for dinner more often, Severus."

Snape gave her a withering look, and fled the room before any more humiliation could be heaped upon him.

*** 

A few minutes later, Lupin entered their rooms. "I stayed behind to help Molly clean up the mess on the floor," he began, but Snape cut him off.

"I'm going to kill you, Lupin!" 

Lupin just smiled at him. "Oh, come on, Severus, there was no point in hiding it once Tonks saw us."

"That didn't mean you had to jump me in front of everyone!" Snape shouted.

"Can you honestly say you didn't like it, Severus?" Lupin said with a sly grin. "That you didn't find it just a little bit exciting? Because I think you did."

Snape flushed and said, "What I'm thinking is that perhaps I ought to take another look at the Wolfsbane Potion, because I'm wondering if it's having some unexpected side-effects. I'm pleased it's been working so well, but if you're going to start molesting me in public, we may have to rethink--"

"It has nothing to do with the potion, Severus," Lupin said calmly. "It's nowhere near the full moon."

"You could have fooled me," Snape said dryly. Lupin grinned at him, his lips pulling back from his teeth to reveal his sharp canines, and despite himself, Snape felt a little shiver of desire run down his spine. He raised an eyebrow and asked, "Didn't you tell me that you weren't an alpha wolf?"

"I'm not," Lupin protested, but his blue eyes were sparkling with laughter.

"Could have fooled me," Snape repeated.

"No wolf is truly tame, Severus," Lupin said softly, the look in his eyes changing to something more feral, and Snape shivered again. "Wolves fight and jostle for position in their packs all the time." He and Snape began to circle around each other slowly, like two wolves sizing up their opponents.

"Are you saying you want to fight with me, Lupin?" Snape asked huskily.

"No, Severus," Lupin said in a velvety voice. "That is the last thing I want." That voice made Snape's mouth go dry. Still circling around Snape, Lupin leaned over and whispered, "Your cries of outrage were loud, Severus, but you didn't put up much of a struggle when I kissed you. In fact, it seemed to me that you were enjoying yourself very much."

"I was not," Snape said, but his words came out in a hoarse whisper, which made his denial rather unconvincing.

"Oh? Then you didn't like it when I did this, either?" Lupin leaned over again and lightly brushed his lips against Snape's neck. Snape gasped and reached out for Lupin, but the werewolf playfully darted out of reach. "I thought you didn't want me pawing at you, Severus."

"Only in public," Snape whined. A very small part of him still wanted to kill Lupin, but rest of him thought that there were a number of other things he could do to and with Lupin that would be much more pleasurable... "You're such a little tease, Lupin!"

"Do you remember what I said about asking nicely, Severus?" Lupin said mischievously. There was a mixture of irritation and desire in Snape's black eyes as he made a noise deep in his throat that sounded remarkably like a growl. _So which one of us is the wolf, hmm?_ Lupin thought in amusement.

"Slytherins don't ask nicely for anything, Lupin," Snape said in a haughty tone.

"Then you must not want me very badly."

"Let me show you how badly I want you, Lupin!" Snape said, lunging at the werewolf, but Lupin, light and agile on his feet, evaded his lover's grasp with ease. Snape ran after Lupin, silently consoling himself with the fact that at least they were alone, and he was spared the humiliation of having the rest of the Order watch him chase a laughing Lupin around the bedroom. But after a few minutes, he was laughing too, and finally managed to catch hold of Lupin, although he suspected that was only because Lupin let himself be caught. But it didn't really matter to Snape who had caught whom, once his arms were filled with a struggling, laughing werewolf. "You've been very bad, Lupin," he whispered into his lover's ear.

"And what are you going to do about it, Professor Snape?" Lupin asked in a saucy tone. "Punish me? Give me detention?"

"I would, except that I'm afraid you might enjoy it too much," Snape said wryly. "You've become quite incorrigible."

"It must be your Slytherin influence--" Lupin broke off mid-sentence, gasping with pleasure as Snape's hands began caressing his body and fumbling with robe fastenings. Snape smiled with satisfaction at the effect he had on his lover. "Now who's pawing who?" Lupin asked huskily.

"Tit for tat, Lupin," Snape purred into Lupin's ear. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No!" 

Snape continued his "pawing," and Lupin sighed and moaned in a most satisfactory manner. Less satisfying was the fact that Lupin did not return any of his caresses, and Snape growled in frustration.

"Something bothering you, Severus?" Lupin asked innocently. Snape growled again, and Lupin decided to take pity on him; besides, the wolf was getting impatient. "Would you like me to paw you, too, Severus?"

"Yes," said Snape impatiently, but Lupin seemed to be waiting for something more. Snape sighed irritably and added, "Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." Lupin laughed. _It's about time!_ the wolfish part of him said. Lupin kissed Snape hungrily, and returned his caresses with enthusiasm. They stumbled towards the bed, and practically fell into it, Snape pinning Lupin down with the weight of his body. Lupin bared his teeth in that feral grin that Snape always found so enticing, then tilted his head back and exposed his throat. For all that it was a gesture of submission, Snape thought to himself with ironic amusement that they both knew very well who had really won today's little battle. He gently kissed and nipped at the hollow of Lupin's throat, then rolled off Lupin and tilted his own head back.

"Se...Severus...?" Lupin asked, his eyes wide with astonishment.

"You won the battle today," Snape admitted. "But I'm not conceding the war, so don't get used to it!" 

"You never cease to amaze me, Severus Snape," Lupin murmured. Then he grinned and said, "I guess I should enjoy it while I can, then." He leaned over and pressed his lips against his lover's throat, and heard Severus let out a little sigh. He gently nipped at the white skin beneath his lips. Another sigh. Emboldened, Lupin bit down harder, and Severus groaned loudly. Lupin found it quite exhilarating, and despite what he had told Severus about it not being near the full moon, he felt the wolf taking over. _Mine,_ the wolf growled, aroused by the sight of the bruise forming on Severus's neck. _My mate!_ Lupin bit Severus again, provoking another groan. _Mine, and no one else's!_

Snape groaned, thinking to himself, _Who would've thought that having a werewolf chew on your neck could be so erotic?_ Lupin looked up and growled at him, and Snape began to wonder if he really should double-check the Wolfsbane Potion; Lupin was acting very wolfish for this time of month. Then again, he had been taking this particular form of the potion for nearly two years without any ill effect. Maybe it was merely the very public display of affection (as Black referred to it) that had aroused the wolf. _He used to be so shy in school,_ Snape thought sourly. _Since when did he turn into such an exhibitionist?_

But as Lupin kissed him possessively, Snape felt himself responding to the wolf's wanton hunger. He greedily returned the kiss and tore at Lupin's robes, which for a change did not give way, since they were a set Snape had given him for Christmas instead of the thin, much-darned garments he usually wore. As he fumbled with the stubborn fastenings, he thought to himself that next time he would make sure to buy Lupin something that could be easily removed. But finally, robes and clothing came loose and were tossed out of the way, and soon Snape was incapable of thinking at all, surrendering--as Lupin already had--to the wolf's instincts...

*** 

Much later, Snape found himself lying in bed next to a very sated and contented-looking werewolf. Snape was feeling pretty contented himself, as he idly ran his fingers through Lupin's gold-and-silver hair. He had to admit to himself that Lupin's uncharacteristically aggressive behavior had been quite...stimulating. Their lovemaking had been incredibly intense, even compared to the nights he spent with Lupin as the moon waxed to fullness. It had almost been worth the public humiliation Lupin had inflicted on him earlier--not that he would ever tell Lupin that, of course. The werewolf was incorrigible enough as it was, without giving him further encouragement.

Suddenly Lupin began sniffing the air in a very wolf-like manner, then sat up and announced, "I'm hungry!"

"I'm flattered that you have such a high opinion of me, Lupin," Snape said in a tone of voice that somehow managed to be sarcastic and affectionate at the same time. "But as I've told you before, I'm not as resilient as a werewolf. You have quite exhausted me, and I don't think I'm capable of--"

"I meant for food, Severus!" Lupin interrupted with a giggle. "Werewolves have their limits, too, you know."

"That's good to know," Snape said dryly. But then he too began to notice the savory aroma of stew and fresh-baked biscuits wafting up from the kitchen; Molly Weasley could be annoying at times, but she was a very good cook. 

"I'm starving!" Lupin said, jumping out of bed and reaching for his clothes. He grinned and winked at Snape. "Strenuous activity always makes the wolf hungry."

"It's no wonder you're starving, then," Snape said. 

Lupin laughed and nuzzled his cheek affectionately. "Hurry up and get dressed, Severus, before they start dinner without us."

"Er...you go on ahead, Lupin. I'm not really hungry." Which was a blatant lie; now that Lupin had mentioned it, Snape realized he was starving as well, and the stew really did smell good...but Snape didn't think he could stand to face the other Order members right now.

Lupin gave him an amused, yet slightly exasperated look. "Don't tell me you're too embarrassed to go downstairs!" Snape glared at him. Lupin sighed as he continued to get dressed. "Honestly, Severus! Albus, Branwen, and Sirius already knew about us. Do you really find Kingsley, Tonks, and Molly that intimidating?"

"You humiliated me in public, Lupin!" Snape said, sounding for all the world like a sulky child.

Lupin rolled his eyes. "I'd hardly call six members of the Order in our secret headquarters 'public,' Severus."

"How can I ever look any of them in the eye again?" Snape complained, ignoring Lupin.

Lupin snorted. "Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts, who strikes fear into the heart of every student in the school, afraid to deal with a little embarrassment? You're not afraid to face the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters, but you're afraid to face your own friends and colleagues just because they saw you kissing your slightly overeager werewolf lover?"

"I'm not afraid!" Snape snapped, sitting up and glaring at Lupin.

 _Ah, good,_ Lupin thought with satisfaction. _I've offended his pride; he won't be able to let that pass._

"And just for your information, it was you who kissed me, not the other way around!" Snape insisted.

"I'd say the kissing was mutual on both sides, Severus," Lupin said. "But if you're really too embarrassed to come down to dinner, I'll--"

"Oh, shut up, Lupin! I'm coming!" Snape got out of bed and began pulling his clothes on, glaring at Lupin the entire time.

As Snape fastened the high collar of his robe, covering the bruises on his neck, Lupin thought to himself, _I may not have won the war, but I think Round 2 goes to the werewolf as well..._

"And what are you smirking about, Lupin?!"

"Nothing, Severus," Lupin replied innocently. "I was just thinking to myself how handsome you look."

"Right," Snape said disbelievingly. Like that wide-eyed look of innocence wasn't a dead giveaway that he was up to more mischief! 

"But I really DO think you're handsome, Severus," Lupin insisted as they left the room and walked down the hall. He slipped his arm through Snape's and pressed close against him.

"Dammit, Lupin, I told you not to paw me in public!"

*** 

A slightly flustered and very grumpy-looking Snape showed up at the dinner table with Lupin right on his heels, not quite touching Snape, but following much more closely than he usually did. Snape sulkily dropped into a chair, and Lupin took a seat beside him, beaming at him happily. Snape glared at Lupin, then glared at everyone else at the table for good measure, hoping to forestall any laughter or snide remarks. Branwen and Dumbledore, who were sitting on either side of the happy couple, were still giving each other smug looks, and Tonks grinned at Lupin, but no one said anything. Shacklebolt seemed to be trying very hard not to look at either Lupin or Snape. Meanwhile, Sirius helped Molly carry a large cauldron of stew to the table, and dinner commenced.

After a brief silence, conversation started up around the table, a little awkward and stilted at first, but thanks in part to Molly's delicious meal, everyone, even Snape, began to relax, and the discussion flowed more freely. Dumbledore felt he was making headway with both the Ministry and the school governors, and said that he thought chances were good that both Branwen and Lupin would be teaching at Hogwarts again this fall. That both pleased and alarmed Snape; of course he would be delighted to have Lupin back at school once more, but as much as he had come to like Branwen, the thought of her teaching beside him made him very, very nervous. It was one thing when she scolded him as if he were an errant schoolboy here in Black's house, but it would be quite another if she did it in front of the teaching staff--or even worse, the students! 

And Snape, although he was not normally a vain man, found himself rather put out at the idea of losing his status as the most feared and hated teacher at Hogwarts. He scowled; "second most-feared teacher" just didn't have the same ring to it. Could he really compete with the dreaded Professor Blackmore? But then again, he wasn't a boy any longer, and the years she had spent in exile seemed to have made Branwen a little softer and more sentimental; perhaps he could hold his own, after all. He certainly wasn't going to give up without a fight! He smiled nastily into his bowl of stew, imagining all the tortures and detentions he would inflict on his students when school started again. It wouldn't do just to be strict; he would have to be creative as well; he was competing against a master of the art, after all...

Lupin sighed quietly under his breath. Whenever Severus smiled that way, it almost always meant trouble for some hapless student. Then Severus glanced up and saw Branwen watching him, a look of cool amusement in her eyes. His black eyes met her green ones, and a look of challenge passed between them. Severus gave a slight nod, as if to acknowledge her power, but there was a determined look on his face that said he wasn't going to yield to her. She just grinned wickedly and raised her tankard of butterbeer in salute, as if to say, "Let the best man--or woman--win!" Severus grinned back, and Lupin sighed again. He began to feel very, very sorry for the poor, unsuspecting students at Hogwarts...

Oddly enough, no one else at the table seemed to notice that brief exchange--except, of course, for Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling merrily behind his half-moon glasses. While Severus and Branwen got into a spirited discussion about the students at Hogwarts, and how things had changed over the past fifteen years, Lupin leaned over to whisper to Dumbledore, "Is it really safe to have both of them teaching at the same time? Aren't you afraid the students might have nervous breakdowns?" 

Dumbledore chuckled. "Oh, I think our students are made of sterner stuff than that! Besides, deep down, both Branwen and Severus have their students' best interests at heart."

"So deep down that the students might not even notice," Lupin said dryly, and Dumbledore laughed again.

"Well, still, it is there. And a little adversity is good for the children; why do you think I haven't interfered with Severus's teaching methods before? Besides, you will be there as, shall we say, a calming influence, to balance them out."

Lupin looked over dubiously at Severus and Branwen, who seemed to have set aside their rivalry for the moment, and were cackling gleefully together about something. "I think it will take more than a softhearted werewolf to counteract those two," Lupin muttered.

"I have every confidence in you, my boy," Dumbledore said, patting him on the shoulder reassuringly.

Branwen was asking Snape about the students at Hogwarts, and he obligingly began describing their individual personality quirks and weaknesses. As they talked, he began to think that perhaps having Branwen at Hogwarts might not be so bad after all, if they could operate as co-conspirators instead of rivals. And besides, she would be able to punish the Slytherin children when they got out of line; Snape had to tread carefully at times to avoid offending the parents who were Death Eaters, particularly Lucius Malfoy. Lucius was currently languishing in Azkaban, which gave Snape a great deal of pleasure, but he probably wouldn't be there for long. Branwen, on the other hand, wouldn't care about offending anyone, nor would she be expected to. 

"You know, Branwen," Snape purred--a tone of voice he rarely used outside of the bedroom, and Lupin broke off his conversation with Dumbledore to see what his lover was up to. "We could make a good team."

"A team," she said thoughtfully, pausing to consider his words. "We're both more the lone wolf type, but that is a very interesting suggestion, Severus. I was worried you might think that I was...ah...treading on your turf, so to speak."

"I admit that the thought of losing my status as most-feared teacher in the school did not sit well with me," Snape said, and Branwen grinned. "However, upon further thought, there is no reason for us to work at cross-purposes; I think, rather, that our teaching styles could complement each other."

"You intrigue me, Severus," Branwen murmured. "Please, continue..."

"I hate to admit it, but some of my Slytherin students are in sore need of discipline, particularly Mr. Malfoy. I cannot afford to offend Lucius, you see, without risking my standing in the Death Eaters..."

"But I can," Branwen said, grinning again. "I see where you're going with this."

"Yes, and then no doubt little Draco will come running to me for reassurance..."

"Thereby binding him closer to you, and giving you more influence over him. Very devious, Severus; you are a true Slytherin." From some people, those words would have been an insult, but Branwen said them in an approving tone as she reached over and patted Snape's hand, beaming at him the way a teacher beams at her star pupil when he has just made a particularly insightful remark in class.

And Snape preened, smiling proudly, as a student does when his favorite teacher has just paid him a compliment. "Why thank you, Branwen. And I would be happy to return the favor for you, of course, if there are any Ravenclaws or Gryffindors you want me to terrorize for you."

She laughed. "I doubt any of them will come to me for reassurance; more likely they'd go to Flitwick or Remus..."

"Perhaps, but you can be quite charming when you wish to be. If you want to win over the students--or just a few students in particular--I am sure you would have no trouble doing so."

Branwen laughed, and to Snape's astonishment, batted her eyelashes at him playfully. "Why Severus, talk about charming! When did you turn into such a sweet-talker? It must be Remus's influence!" 

Lupin laughed as Snape flushed and said sourly, "You've been spying on me long enough to know that I simply don't find most people worth making the effort for!"

"And you find me worth the effort, Severus?" Branwen laughed. "I'm flattered!"

"I assure you, Branwen," Lupin chimed in, "that even in school he could be quite charming, when he wanted to be."

"Oh, shut up, Lupin!" Snape snapped. On second thought, maybe having both Branwen and Lupin teaching at Hogwarts was not such a good idea after all; they tended to be a bad influence on each other... "In any case," Snape said, trying to steer the conversation back on track, "I'm merely suggesting that we can play the students off each other if we need to."

"Good cop, bad cop," Tonks suddenly said.

"What?" Snape asked irritably, and Branwen looked puzzled.

"It's a Muggle thing," Tonks said. Ignoring Snape's dismissive mutter of, "Muggles," she explained, "In television dramas, two cops--er, policemen--often work in tandem to interrogate a suspect. One is the 'bad cop' who threatens the suspect, and the other is the 'good cop' who pretends to be sympathetic. The idea is that the suspect will be so afraid of the bad cop, that he'll go to the good cop for help and tell him everything they want to know."

"I see," Branwen murmured, then suddenly smiled. "It must be a change for you to be playing the 'good cop,' Severus!"

"Look who's talking," Snape retorted. "You had the entire Slytherin House terrorized, and it takes a lot to frighten a Slytherin!"

Branwen laughed. Meanwhile, Lupin began asking Tonks about the Muggle television dramas she had mentioned, and Snape frowned. He thought his lover had become a little too enamored of Muggle devices after spending that summer in Japan with Professor Kamiyama and his family. Personally, Snape thought that "television" and "video games" were the biggest waste of time ever invented. But he was soon distracted by something even more disturbing, when he overheard Dumbledore talking to Molly Weasley, who was agreeing to stay at the house again this summer to help watch over Potter and his friends.

"Harry's had a difficult year," Dumbledore said. "I think it's important for him to have the support of the people who care about him."

"I quite agree with you, Albus," Molly said. "And the children enjoyed staying here last summer." She frowned and said, "Perhaps a little too much," no doubt recalling the antics of her sons Fred and George. Then her expression lightened as her eyes slid over to Snape. "But with Severus here more often..."

"I'm not a baby-sitter!" Snape said indignantly, scowling ferociously at her. "I spend nine months out of every year looking after brats, so during what little free time I have left when I'm not dancing attendance on the Dark Lord--"

"No one's expecting you to baby-sit, Severus," Molly said soothingly, interrupting his tirade. "I just meant that your mere presence has a steadying influence on the children."

"I'm so glad I can be of service," Snape said sarcastically, and turned his attention back to his meal, but he had lost his appetite. Great. Having to spend another summer with the brats around was bad enough, but he was particularly dreading it now, with Lupin acting like a wolf in heat. Who knew what that crazy werewolf was going to do next? Snape shuddered at the thought of Lupin jumping him in front of the children, and was sorely tempted to slip a tranquilizer into the next batch of Wolfsbane potion. Then again, Lupin had already kissed him in front of Potter, and despite the boy's promise to keep it a secret, Snape wouldn't be surprised if he had already blabbed about it to Weasley and Granger. He toyed with his food, thinking to himself that he was going to have to threaten them with a very slow, painful death to keep them from spreading the gossip around the school. Maybe creeping conspicuously around the vicinity of the kitchen while holding a clearly-labeled bottle of poison would do the trick... 

Just then, Lupin laughed at something Tonks was saying, and Snape's irritation eased slightly. He looked so beautiful when he smiled, and his long, golden-brown hair was falling into his eyes in a way that made Snape's fingers itch to reach over and brush it back from his face. But of course he couldn't do that, not in front of everyone at the dinner table... _What's stopping you?_ the little voice in his head asked. _They already know about the two of you, and after Lupin's little display of affection this afternoon, I doubt anything else you could do would shock them, short of having sex right here on the table!_

Snape winced. _Please don't give Lupin any ideas!_ he told the voice. Fortunately, Lupin was not versed in Legilimency, and could not hear what Snape was thinking. Lupin was still safely occupied talking with Tonks, so Snape allowed his eyes to drift back to his lover. He really did look beautiful tonight, dressed not in his usual shabby rags, but in a blue-gray robe Snape had given him that nicely complemented the color of his eyes. And he looked so much better than he had when he had first arrived to teach at Hogwarts nearly three years ago: he was still slender, but no longer gaunt, and his fair skin had a healthy flush to it instead of a sickly pallor. Although he still had the faint markings of crow's feet around his eyes and smile-lines around his mouth, they were no longer so pronounced, and seemed more like an indication of his good nature rather than signs of illness. 

Even the Wolfsbane Potion could not reverse the graying of his hair, but it seemed to have halted--or at least slowed--the process; as far as Snape could tell, Lupin's gray hairs had not increased by more than a few strands. Snape wouldn't have minded the gray, anyway, except that it was a sign of the stress the werewolf's transformation inflicted on his body. The streaks in Lupin's hair were more silver than gray, Snape privately thought, and gave him an air of dignity. He still remembered that fateful day he had seen the late afternoon sunlight fall across Lupin's hair, giving it the illusion of being spun from pure gold and silver. That was the image of Lupin he carried with him in his heart; Lupin was his treasure, far more precious to him than any amount of real gold or silver could ever be. Unconsciously, his lips curved in a faint smile. Well, perhaps the summer wouldn't be so bad after all; since Lupin had so dramatically revealed their relationship to everyone, there was really no need for Snape to stay away in order to keep up the pretense of being enemies. He could stay and spend the nights with Lupin, his embarrassment to some extent compensated for by Lupin's increased enthusiasm in bed...

*** 

Tonks watched Snape surreptitiously throughout dinner, in light of recent revelations. For the most part, he seemed to be trying to ignore Lupin, except to glare or snap at him when the werewolf directed a laugh or comment his way. But Tonks noticed that even when Snape was talking to someone else, his eyes kept darting back towards Lupin. Now that she thought about it, Snape almost never took his eyes completely off Lupin, but since he was usually glaring at the werewolf, everyone had assumed that it was just another sign of Snape's hatred and distrust. Had he been fooling them all along? The man must be an incredible actor! But then again, he would have to be, in order to have deceived Voldemort all these years. Still, Tonks had a hard time believing that Snape was really in love with Lupin, and had an ever harder time figuring out what Lupin saw in him. Of course she understood and appreciated the risks Snape was taking for the Order, but he was so rude and disagreeable to everyone that it was difficult to like the man. She would never let a boyfriend treat her the way Snape treated Lupin, but the werewolf clearly adored him.

But then she began to notice the way Snape stared at Lupin when he thought no one was looking. His eyes were no longer hostile, but filled with an odd sort of intensity, as if he were trying to memorize every detail of Lupin's face. The expression on his face gradually softened as he continued to watch Lupin, and he unbent enough to smile at his lover. It was not much of a smile by normal standards, just a slight upward curving of the lips, but it was the first time Tonks had ever seen him smile sincerely, without any sarcasm or sadistic pleasure in someone else's misfortune. And his black eyes held a look of tenderness mingled with awe, as if he could not quite believe that Lupin was really his. He was, Tonks realized with a start, staring at Lupin as if the werewolf were some priceless treasure, something incredibly rare and beautiful. From the corner of her eye, she saw Snape's smile grow a little wider, and the expression in his eyes changed slightly; the tenderness was still there, but it was now tinged with hunger. Not a starving kind of hunger, but he was looking at Lupin the way a gourmet might regard a particularly fine meal, and Tonks suddenly blushed. 

Lupin blinked, startled, then seemed to trace Tonks's gaze back to the source: Snape. He turned and caught Snape in the act of smiling at him. Snape immediately glowered at him, but it was too late. Lupin grinned at him, and Snape blushed. Tonks marveled at the sight; it was really quite strange to see the former Death Eater acting like an awkward schoolboy.

"What are you smirking at, Lupin?" Snape snarled, his face still red.

"Why shouldn't I be happy?" Lupin asked, affectionately reaching out to lay a hand on Snape's arm. "I am in the presence of friends, enjoying good food, good conversation, and good company."

Snape looked down and glared pointedly at Lupin's hand, where it rested on his arm, but Lupin did not remove it. "I told you not to paw me in public, Lupin," he hissed softly.

"Oh, don't be so grumpy, Severus," Lupin laughed. Snape scowled at him. Lupin scowled back, twisting his features into an exaggerated imitation of Snape's scowl. Snape continued to glare at him, and Lupin contorted his face into increasingly ridiculous expressions. Tonks couldn't hold back a giggle, and she heard Dumbledore chuckle. The look on Snape's face was truly fearsome to behold, and for a moment, Tonks worried for Lupin's safety, but then she noticed that the corners of Snape's mouth kept twitching upwards although he kept forcing them back down into a frown.

Snape's mouth twitched again, and Lupin cried out triumphantly. "Aha! I think I saw a smile, Severus!"

"You did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

Lupin did his best imitation of the Potions Master's glare, and finally Snape gave up and laughed. Tonks jumped slightly at the sound; she had heard him laugh before, but always bitterly or mockingly, or at best, sadistically, as when he had been cackling earlier with Branwen when they had been discussing possible punishments and detentions for their students. But this was completely different: it was a low, rich, resonant sound that was surprisingly good-natured. The smile transformed his face, too, softening its harsh lines and turning it into something almost...well...handsome, she thought with surprise. For the first time she began to get an inkling of what Remus saw in him. It was amazing, the difference a smile could make; his features had not changed--sharp cheekbones and big nose--but instead of looking severe and ugly, they seemed aristocratic, as if the smile somehow made them fit his face better. _Remus is truly a wizard of power,_ Tonks thought to herself, _if he can work such a miraculous transformation in Severus Snape!_

"You're impossible, Lupin," Snape said, shaking his head.

"It's all your fault, Severus," Lupin said pertly, tilting his head to grin up at Snape. A stray lock of hair fell across his face, and Snape reached out--as if without thinking--and gently brushed it back, his fingertips lightly grazing Lupin's face as he pushed the lock of hair out of the way, tucking it behind Lupin's ear. Lupin flushed a little, and he smiled adoringly at Snape.

"Jeez, will you two get a room!" Sirius said, looking uncomfortable and a little resentful.

"Sirius!" Branwen said in a tone of voice that was more weary than angry.

Snape started to scowl again, but Lupin leaned over and said softly, "Do you remember how you used to enjoy annoying Sirius last summer?"

Snape hesitated, the scowl hovering on his face uncertainly for a moment, then it vanished and was replaced by a wicked grin. "I remember it quite well, Lupin." He hesitated a moment longer as he glanced around the table (by now, they had everyone's full attention), then shrugged and said, "Oh, what the the hell," and brushed his lips against Lupin's cheek. Sirius made an odd little choking noise. Snape's lips slid down a little lower to kiss Lupin's neck; the werewolf sighed loudly.

"ARGH!" shouted Sirius, jumping up and fleeing from the room.

Snape laughed again, looking very pleased with himself. Tonks thought to herself that although Snape was not conventionally handsome, he would have no shortage of suitors if he would only laugh and smile a little more often. Then again, he probably didn't need anymore suitors--Lupin alone seemed to be more than he could handle!

"Black seems to be finished with dinner," Snape said casually. "How about you, Lupin?"

"I'm just about done," Lupin replied, mopping up the last traces of gravy from his bowl with a piece of biscuit. He popped the biscuit into his mouth, chewed and swallowed, then said, "Shall we retire for the evening, then?"

"Yes," Snape said, then added dryly, "it's been a very long day." 

They rose from their seats and started to leave, when Molly said weakly, "I made an apple pie, if anyone wants dessert..."

Snape stopped halfway to the door, but Lupin said, "I think we can manage dessert on our own, Molly," and gave Snape a look that was downright lascivious. Snape turned bright red and ran out of the room even faster than Sirius had. Lupin just laughed and followed at a more leisurely pace.

*** 

Snape glared at Lupin in the privacy of their rooms. The words, "I'm going to kill you, Lupin," came to mind, but he knew that Lupin would pay him no heed, as it was obviously an empty threat. He silently fumed, trying to come up with a threat that might actually prove effective on the werewolf.

"I'm hungry," Lupin announced.

"Then why couldn't we have stayed for dessert?" Snape asked in a slightly whiny tone, still a little miffed that he'd missed out on a fresh-baked apple pie. He had a sweet tooth, and as much he disliked Molly Weasley, she really was an excellent cook.

"Not for food, Severus," Lupin purred, his eyes gleaming with that feral look again.

"Oh," said Snape, forgetting about apple pie as Lupin began to undress.

"How's this for dessert, Severus?" Lupin asked, casting aside his robe.

"Perfect," Snape said in a husky voice, taking Lupin into his arms and kissing him hungrily. 

Lupin turned his attention to Snape's robes, unfastening them and letting his hands slide beneath them. Snape moaned, and Lupin said impishly, "It seems you are quite resilient after all, Severus, even though you're not a werewolf."

"I'm going to need a Strengthening Solution to keep up with you at this rate, Lupin!" Snape panted.

"You seem to be doing just fine on your own, Severus," Lupin laughed, and led him to bed.

*** 

Meanwhile, Tonks knocked on her cousin's bedroom door. "Sirius?" she called.

"Come in," Sirius called, sounding a little grumpy. Tonks walked in, to find him lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling. "What's up?" he asked.

"I'm still a little fazed by this whole Remus-Snape thing," she confessed, pulling up a chair beside the bed.

"Tell me about it," Sirius said in a disgruntled tone as he sat up and turned to face her. "No, on second thought, don't tell me about it! It's bad enough to have to see them together without having to think about it when they're not around! I can't stand the thought of Remus being with him!"

"I never figured you for the bigoted type, Sirius," Tonks said, sounding disappointed in him. 

Sirius blinked at her in bemusement, then realized what she meant. "I don't disapprove of them being together because Snape is a guy," he protested. "If Remus wanted to date, well...say...Kingsley...that would be kind of weird, but as long as he was happy, I wouldn't mind. I hate Snape because he's...well...Snape."

"Why?" Tonks asked.

"Huh?"

"Why do you hate him so much? I mean, he's not very nice most of the time, and I can't say that I like him, but I don't hate him, either. And Remus sees something in him, so he can't be all bad."

"Remus is too softhearted for his own good," Sirius said, scowling. "I don't trust Snape."

"Don't trust him meaning, you're afraid he might betray the Order?" Tonks asked curiously. "Or don't trust him meaning, you're afraid he might break Remus's heart?"

"Both," said Sirius, although secretly he no longer really believed that Snape was a traitor. "But mostly the second."

"Well..." said Tonks, leaning back in the chair as she thought things over. "As to the first part, I don't think he'll betray the Order. After all, if he was really serving You-Know-Who, he would have just let Harry walk into the Death Eaters' trap, wouldn't he? He'd have had no reason to warn us, and certainly no reason to save your life."

"Please don't remind me about that!" Sirius groaned. "Fine," he said sulkily. "If you must be so damn logical about it, I concede that Snape's not a traitor."

Tonks grinned. She loved Sirius, but he could be very stubborn at times. "As for the second, it's nice that you're so protective of Remus, but that's a risk we all take, isn't it? No one can guarantee that you won't get hurt when you fall in love."

"You're too young to be sounding so mature," Sirius grumbled. "Besides, you didn't go to school with Snape. He hexed us every chance he got--"

"And it was all one-sided, right?" Tonks asked, raising her eyebrows. "You and your friends were perfect little angels; you never hexed him or played any pranks on him...?" She laughed as Sirius flushed guiltily. "I was a Gryffindor, too, Sirius; I remember what it was like." 

"But he was especially mean to Remy," Sirius insisted. "He made fun of his patched robes, shoved him in the halls, pushed him down into the mud once--"

"Sirius," Tonks said, giving her cousin a slightly patronizing smile, "when you were a little boy, didn't you ever tease a girl you liked? You know...call her names, pull her pigtails, hide a frog in her desk...that sort of thing?"

"What?" snapped Sirius. "Are you trying to tell me that it was all some kind of bizarre Slytherin courtship ritual? Give me a break! Yeah, I did stuff like that--when I was six, not when I was sixteen!"

"Snape was a Slytherin and Remus was a Gryffindor," Tonks said patiently. "I'm sure both Houses would have given him a hard time if they realized he had a crush on Remus. He probably went out of his way to act like he hated Remus so that no one would suspect that he really liked him." She paused, then said, "In a way, it's kind of romantic--you know, like Romeo and Juliet, star-crossed lovers and all that..."

Sirius made a gagging noise. "Please, I'm going to be sick! Besides, Romeo and Juliet killed themselves, in case you've forgotten!"

Tonks laughed. "Well then, isn't it nice that this story has a happy ending?"

"I still don't trust him!" Sirius said stubbornly. "He's a petty, mean-spirited bastard. He got Remus kicked out of Hogwarts two years ago, you know, by telling everyone that Remy was a werewolf!"

"Why did he do that, anyway?" Tonks asked. "I always assumed it was because he hated Remus, but if their...thing...started that year at Hogwarts, then why...?"

Sirius flushed again, and he mumbled, "Because he thought Remus helped me break into Hogwarts."

"Ah, right, you were still a fugitive then."

"He wouldn't believe I was innocent! He wouldn't even listen to what we had to say! If he hadn't let Wormtail run off, my name might have been cleared two years ago!"

"That must have been hard," Tonks said sympathetically. "But a lot of people thought you were guilty, Sirius, and you don't hate all of them. Is this really about protecting Remus, or is it more about holding a grudge--"

"Yes, I hate Snape!" Sirius snapped. "I've always hated him! But that's between me and Snape! This thing with Remus is something else entirely! Why should I be happy about it, after seeing how badly he's treated Remus over the years?!"

"Remus is the one who has to live with him," Tonks pointed out. "And if Remus forgives him, and is happy with him, why should it bother you?"

"Dammit, have you been talking to Branwen?" Sirius shouted. "Sometimes it seems like this house is just one big Snape love-fest!"

Tonks giggled. "No, I haven't talked to Branwen about it, but it's clear that she approves of them being together."

"She always did like that greasy git," Sirius muttered. "Never could figure out why. It's all her fault they're together, you know. This whole thing got started when she paired them up on a Summonings project back in fifth year."

Tonks giggled again. "That's kind of cute, actually. Though it's tough to picture Snape as a kid."

"Yeah, laugh it up," Sirius said disgustedly. "But Branwen's track record isn't so hot--the other couple that resulted from that project was Ariane Donner and Evan Rosier, and we all know what happened to them."

"Snape's proved his loyalty, and Remus is in no danger of becoming a Death Eater," Tonks said in a more serious voice.

Sirius scowled. When had his clumsy, fun-loving little cousin become the voice of reason? Well, she was a full-fledged Auror now, so he supposed he couldn't call her "little" cousin anymore. "I just don't want him to hurt Remus again," Sirius said quietly.

Tonks thought of how Remus had completely cowed Snape earlier that afternoon, then sent him fleeing from the dinner table just a little while ago, and she grinned. "Oh, I wouldn't worry if I were you, Sirius," she laughed. "I think Remus can take care of himself just fine."

*** 

Professor Snape continued to visit Dylan regularly to give him his Occlumency lessons, for which Dylan was grateful. Not just because they would allow him to protect himself against the Dark Lord, but because they provided a welcome distraction from his captivity: both he and his mother were confined to the house for their own protection; they couldn't even go outside for a walk in the garden. Uncle Math had placed protective spells on both the house and the grounds, but an enclosed building was much easier to protect than an open expanse of land. And ever since they found out Lucius Malfoy had secretly kidnapped Ariane off the estate grounds the day Dylan was forced to take the Mark, the adults were taking no chances with his safety.

Although Goewin was still treating Ariane coolly, both women were united in their desire to protect Dylan; he was strictly forbidden to set one foot outside of the house. He couldn't fly on his broom, or simply go for a walk through the woods to be alone with his thoughts, as he was used to doing. He read books, practiced spells, and played chess with his great-uncle or Exploding Snap with his great-aunt or his mother, but soon he was ready to go stir-crazy from being cooped up in the house all the time. Dylan was really more the scholarly type than the outdoorsy type, and normally spent most of his time indoors anyway, but somehow being forbidden to leave made his confinement almost unbearable--he was virtually a prisoner in his own home.

So he welcomed any break in his routine, including those visits from Professor Snape. And he was always happy to see Snape, who was the only person who truly understood what Dylan was going through right now, since none of his family, not even his mother, had ever been branded with the Dark Mark.

Dylan continued to progress well in his lessons; he was growing better at protecting his thoughts and blocking Snape's attacks. After the time Dylan had unintentionally broken into his teacher's mind and seen some of his childhood memories, Snape seemed to have increased his own guard, and nothing like that happened again. He did occasionally get fleeting glimpses of blurred images, though, that usually passed by too swiftly for him to identify, but he had recognized the faces of Dumbledore, Potter's father, the pretty green-eyed teacher who had smiled at young Snape in his memory, and the teenaged boy that the young Snape had been spying on, the one with pale blue eyes and long, brown hair.

"Legilimens!" shouted Snape, raising his wand.

Dylan felt Snape battering at his defenses, but his mental walls held. He raised his own wand and said, "Stupefy!"

The spell did not stun Snape--for which Dylan was grateful, as attacking his teacher still made him slightly nervous--but it did force him to stagger backwards and break off his attack. 

"Very good," Snape said approvingly, and Dylan smiled happily. Professor Snape doled out compliments very sparingly, so Dylan knew that any words of praise he received were sincere and hard-earned. "It seems you can defend yourself adequately with a wand, but the Dark Lord will kill you if you raise a wand to him."

Dylan sighed to himself; it seemed that he wasn't going to be given much time to savor the praise he'd earned...

"And so," Snape continued, "I think it is time you started defending yourself with your mind alone."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said obediently, putting his wand away. "What must I do?"

"Keep up your mental defenses as you have been, and try to push me away, but with your mind, not your wand."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said, a little apprehensively.

"Ready?" Snape didn't wait for an answer. "One--two--three--Legilimens!"

Dylan gritted his teeth and braced himself against Snape's attack, trying to keep up the mental image of a fortress wall, thick and impenetrable. He felt Snape's mind attacking his defenses, like a battering ram striking against a castle wall. At first his defenses held, but then a small crack appeared in the wall, and then another...and then he felt memories flowing through those cracks like water: himself as a child, curled up on his mother's lap, as she whispered to him stories about how brave and handsome his father was...Ariane teaching a young Dylan forbidden Dark Arts spells...the burning pain of the Dark Mark being seared onto his arm...

"Enough!" said Snape, breaking off the attack.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Dylan said shakily, rubbing his arm, somehow still feeling ghostly echoes of pain, although he knew they were not real.

"It was good for a first attempt," Snape said, looking a little shaken himself. "You held out longer than I thought you would. Take a moment to compose yourself, then we'll try again. But this time, don't just act defensively; try to push me away. On the count of three, then: one--two--three--Legilimens!"

Dylan concentrated on strengthening his defenses, then gave a mental shove, trying to push Snape out of his mind. The attack receded for just a moment, then resumed with renewed vigor. But Dylan was encouraged by the fact that he had been able to fend off the attack, however briefly, and shoved again, as hard as he could. 

Snape stumbled backwards again, reaching out to grab at a nearby chair to keep his balance, and a series of images flashed before Dylan's eyes: a hook-nosed man and a beautiful dark-haired woman who, judging by their resemblance to Snape, were his parents...the mysterious long-haired teenage boy, smiling apologetically...young Snape, stirring something in a cauldron as two other boys watched, sly and mischievous smiles on all three faces. One boy had sandy hair, green eyes, and a cheerful, good-natured expression on his face. The other was almost as familiar to Dylan as his own reflection in the mirror, because his mother had a picture of him in a silver frame on her nightstand: a handsome boy with wavy black hair and intense brown eyes. The young man in the picture frame was a few years older than the boy in Snape's memories, but they were undoubtedly the same person--Evan Rosier, Dylan's father.

"Enough," gasped Snape, and to Dylan's disappointment, the image of his father vanished. "Very good," Snape said, but he looked a little disturbed. "I had not expected you to do so well on only your second try."

"Th-that was my father, wasn't it?" Dylan asked, his voice trembling slightly. "The boy in your memory..."

"Yes," said Snape curtly, but he still looked more shaken than angry.

"And the other boy...?" Dylan asked, although he suspected he knew the answer already; the sandy-haired boy was not as familiar to Dylan as his father, but Dylan was almost certain he had seen a couple of pictures of him in a scrapbook Ariane kept from her schoolgirl days. Common sense told him he should drop the subject, since Snape obviously didn't want to talk about it--they never discussed the memories they saw during the lessons--but the sight of his father awoke an old longing in Dylan, and made him more reckless than usual.

Snape just sighed wearily and confirmed Dylan's suspicions. "That was Lyall Wilkes, your father's best friend."

"Yes, Mother has told me about him. And...so did you, a little, last year," said Dylan, recalling how Snape had recounted some of Evan's and Lyall's childhood pranks for him. Since Snape hadn't yelled at him yet, Dylan persisted a bit further and asked, "What were the three of you doing?"

Snape sighed again. "Do you recall the prank I told you about, the one where they sent a Gryffindor boy a box of chocolates laced with Swelling Solution from a 'secret admirer'?" Dylan nodded. "Well," Snape said a little sheepishly, "what I didn't tell you was that I helped them make the chocolates."

Dylan laughed. "I should have guessed! You were the one with an expertise in Potions, after all!" But it was hard to picture Snape playing pranks and acting like a carefree child. "Um...just out of curiosity, who did you give the chocolates to?" He had a hunch, but he wasn't sure...

For a moment, Dylan thought Snape wasn't going to answer, but then he said, "Mr. Potter's father," still sounding sheepish, but a little pleased with himself at the same time.

Dylan laughed again. He wasn't surprised at Snape's answer; after all, he had heard from both his mother and Draco about how Snape had hated Potter's father, and it was clear that he hated the younger Potter as well.

"Those days weren't all fun and games, Mr. Rosier," Snape said sharply. "All three of us took the Mark--" Snape tapped his left arm. "--and I am the only one still left alive."

"Sorry," mumbled Dylan, looking down at his feet. "I remember, Mother told me that Lyall Wilkes was killed alongside my father. I know why my dad joined the Death Eaters; why did Wilkes join?"

Snape hesitated for a moment, then answered quietly, "Because your father asked him to. Because Lyall worshipped your father, and everything Evan did, Lyall did as well."

Dylan looked up and stared at Snape in horror as his teacher's words sunk in. "You're saying he died because of my dad?" Dylan whispered.

Snape looked sad and angry and guilty all at the same time. "Yes and no. We were all eighteen, legal adults, when we took the Mark, so we were all responsible for our own actions. But Lyall was a follower, not a leader, and he always followed Evan's lead, no matter how much trouble it got him into. At first that trouble was just detention, but later..." 

Dylan had idolized his father all his life; it was only recently, after he had discovered how ruthless the Death Eaters really were, that he began to suspect that his father had perhaps not been as perfect as he had always thought. When Dylan was forced to break off his friendship with Hermione for her own good, he'd had the fleeting and traitorous thought that his mother might have been better off if Evan Rosier had given her up as well: Ariane had sacrificed everything to be with the man she loved, and in the end she had been disgraced, disowned, and sentenced to exile. And now this revelation, that his father had been responsible for the death of his own best friend, hit him like a physical blow. Dylan wanted to cry out that it wasn't true, to yell at Snape not to tell lies about his father, but then he looked up and saw the sympathy in his teacher's black eyes, and the anger drained out of him. Snape offered pity even less than he offered praise, so if Snape felt sorry for him, then the situation must be even worse than it seemed.

"It was not entirely Evan's fault," Snape said softly. "Lyall was very naive--an odd trait for a Slytherin. He believed what the Dark Lord told us, without question. Some chose to serve merely for power, but Lyall honestly believed that he was helping to save the wizard race by helping to exterminate Muggles and Mudbloods."

"And my father," Dylan whispered, no longer so certain of his father's motives for joining the Death Eaters. "Why did he choose to serve?"

Snape hesitated again, then said, "For both power and love. He wanted power, yes, but mainly so that he could be with Ariane, after her family tried to separate them. But your father was an ambitious man...I honestly don't know whether or not he would still have joined the Death Eaters, if Ariane's family had not forbade their marriage." 

That didn't really make Dylan feel any better; if anything, it made him feel more miserable. Snape seemed to take pity on him again, and said, "Evan was not perfect--far from it, but none of us are. He made some terrible mistakes, but he did honestly love your mother. He was willing to defy his House for her sake. I think that is the only reason Lucius Malfoy gave in, and gave his approval to their relationship, because otherwise he feared losing his influence over Evan--and he wanted to recruit your father to his Master's cause. And in his own way, Evan was an honorable man. He could have surrendered to save his life; he could have turned coat to buy his freedom. But he chose to die rather than betray his Lord. He never broke faith with his Master, but the Dark Lord did not repay his loyalty in kind."

Dylan rubbed his arm where the Dark Mark was branded; physical proof of the Dark Lord's betrayal. "Why did you join, Professor?" he asked, wondering if he was pushing his luck too far. But in many ways, the Potions Master was a complete cypher; Dylan still had no idea what had pushed him to join the Death Eaters or what had pushed him away from them, and Dylan very much wanted to know the answer to those questions.

"It's none of your business, Rosier," Snape said, but in a weary voice that Dylan somehow found more unnerving than his anger. The children in Slytherin saw their Head of House as near-omnipotent, and it was quite disturbing to find out that he was human after all.

"You know everything about me and my family," Dylan pointed out quietly. "But I know almost nothing about you."

"Too much knowledge can be a dangerous thing, Rosier," Snape said sharply, sounding more like his old self, and Dylan felt both relieved and disappointed.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Dylan, suddenly afraid that he had gone too far. Snape's goodwill meant a lot to him, and he didn't want to lose it.

Snape said, "That's enough for today. Keep practicing, and I'll come again in a few days if I'm able." He started to leave the room, but paused at the door and said, "I wanted revenge on someone I believed had betrayed me."

Dylan looked up startled, and realized that Snape was answering his question after all. "'Believed'...?" he asked.

Snape smiled at him, but it was a smile tinged with bitterness. "You are perceptive, Dylan...a little too perceptive sometimes. It would be best if you did not let the Death Eaters become aware of that. There is such a thing as being too smart for your own good, you know."

"Yes, sir," Dylan muttered, flushing. 

Snape was silent for a moment, then he said quietly, "That person had not betrayed me after all, though I did not realize it at the time. There were others who had wronged me, that I also wanted revenge on...but whatever they had done, it was not worth the price I paid. And in the end, I never did get my revenge...not really." Then he left, closing the door behind him, leaving Dylan with even more questions than he'd had before.

*** 

_Revenge..._ thought Snape. His old enemies had suffered, though it had been none of Snape's doing: James Potter was dead, and Sirius Black had spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. But somehow Snape had found himself unable to take any pleasure in their suffering; he had lost too much himself...he had lost Lupin, lost his comrades and former classmates Rosier and Wilkes, and most of all, lost his childish innocence. Not that he had ever had much to begin with, but what little was left had been swept away in the tide of blood that marked the Dark Lord's reign. Some of that blood stained Snape's hands and his soul, and no matter what he did to atone for it, he would never truly be able to wash all of it off.

He had intended to visit Lupin at Grimmauld Place after Dylan's lesson, but right now he felt like being alone with his memories. He returned to Hogwarts, and walked by the lake, thinking back to his schoolboy days...

*** 

Classes were over for the day, and the students filed out into the hall. Snape lingered outside the classroom door, scowling as he watched James Potter sauntering down the hall, surrounded by admirers--giggling girls trying to catch his eye, and younger boys who idolized Gryffindor's star Quidditch player. And of course, at the center of the crowd were Potter's three best friends: Black, Pettigrew, and Lupin. Remus Lupin was a decent sort, for a Gryffindor; what on earth did he see in a conceited git like Potter? _Well, let's see,_ the little voice in Snape's head said sarcastically. _Potter's rich, smart, and popular, not to mention the star of the Gryffindor Quidditch team..._

Snape didn't even notice Rosier and Wilkes coming up behind him until he heard Evan's sneering voice say, "Look at Potter, strutting around like he owns the school!" Both Rosier and Snape were on the Slytherin Quidditch team, which had lost its last game to Gryffindor, and Rosier was still feeling bitter about it.

Meanwhile, Potter seemed to be describing a particularly daring play he had made during that game while his adoring crowd oohed and ahed. "Just because they managed to win one game, it's totally gone to his head," Wilkes agreed; but then he always agreed with whatever Rosier said. 

"Potter's head has gotten so big," Snape said sourly, "that I'm surprised the weight of it hasn't snapped his scrawny little neck."

Wilkes laughed at that image. "That's pretty funny, Snape!" 

"We should put him in his place," Rosier said, a malicious gleam in his dark eyes.

"You've got an idea, haven't you, Evan?" Wilkes asked eagerly, sensing another prank in the making. No matter how many times he served detention, he was always up for more mischief.

"Yes," said Rosier, grinning slyly. "I know just how we can take Mr. Potter down a peg or two--but we'll need Snape's help to do it."

"Me?" asked Snape warily. Rosier and Wilkes were famous in Slytherin for the outrageous pranks they pulled--and famous as well for the amount of time they spent in detention.

"Yes, you," Rosier said firmly. "What if we gave Potter a swelled head for real? All we need to do is slip him a little Swelling Solution..."

"And I suppose you want me to make the Solution," Snape said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Professor De Lacy is always holding you up as a shining example in Potions class," Rosier pointed out. "While me and Lyall are just getting by..."

"I don't know..." Snape hedged. "I just finished serving detention for hexing Black."

"Aw, come on, Snape," Wilkes coaxed. "It'll be fun!"

Snape was about to retort that polishing the silver in the trophy room had not been much fun; in fact, it had been particularly galling to have to polish the Gryffindor awards and trophies. But just then, Lupin laughed at something Potter said, and looked up at him admiringly. Snape felt a sudden surge of hatred and jealousy that seemed to originate from his stomach; it felt like his insides were twisting themselves into knots, and he gritted his teeth against a pain that was almost physical. Snape knew with a bitter certainty that Lupin was never going to look at him that way. Though of course Lupin was a penniless little nobody, and a Gryffindor to boot; there was no reason for Snape to care what Lupin thought of him...

"I'm in," Snape said abruptly.

Rosier blinked, startled at Snape's sudden change of heart, then grinned and said, "Great! Now all we have to do is figure out how to get him to take the Swelling Solution."

"Slip it into his food at dinner?" suggested Wilkes.

"It'll be tough to get near the Gryffindor table without them noticing," Rosier said, frowning.

Snape watched as Potter called out to Lily Evans, who gave him a contemptuous look and walked past him without even slowing down. "I have an idea," he said in a silky voice. "It's Valentine's Day next week. We'll send him a box of chocolates--from a 'secret admirer'."

"Not bad, Snape," Rosier said, sounding mildly impressed. "But do you think he'll be suspicious?"

"Not him," Snape snorted. "He's always chasing after that Mudblood girl, Evans. Even though she won't give him the time of day, he's so full of himself that he'll be sure it's from her." 

Snape brewed the potion in their dorm room, and they experimented with injecting the solution into some store-bought chocolates, but it was too obvious that the sweets had been tampered with. Finally, Snape declared they would have to make the candy from scratch. They bought big bars of Honeydukes chocolate and melted them down in a cauldron as they stirred in the Swelling Solution. 

As they dropped spoonfuls of chocolate onto a tray to cool, Rosier said dubiously, "I don't know if this is going to work, Snape." He prodded an odd-sized lump of chocolate with his spoon. "He's never gonna believe these were bought at Honeydukes."

"Trust me, this is even better," said Snape. "He'll be thrilled that his dream girl went to the trouble of making homemade chocolates for him."

"Has anyone ever made homemade chocolates for you, Evan?" Wilkes asked with a grin. Evan Rosier was the most popular boy in Slytherin House, second only to Lucius Malfoy, and always received a large pile of Valentine's Day cards and gifts every year. In fact, he was so handsome and popular that he received presents from girls outside of Slytherin, which was almost unheard of.

"No," said Evan, looking a little disappointed. "But I have gotten homemade cookies."

Snape said nothing; no one had ever given him anything for Valentine's Day, homemade or not. But at least he would have the pleasure of seeing Potter get his just desserts.

 

They put their homemade chocolates into the empty heart-shaped box that had held the first set of chocolates that didn't work out. Wilkes made a huge heart out of red paper and white doilies, snickering the entire time. They glued it onto the top of the box, and Rosier wrote, "To James: Happy Valentine's Day from your secret admirer," on the heart in a flowing, feminine script. The three boys laughed at their cleverness, and Snape found he was enjoying himself, not just because Potter would be humiliated, but because for the first time, he felt a sense of camaraderie with his Slytherin housemates. He wasn't foolish enough to mistake it for real friendship--they were merely allies temporarily united for a common cause--but he enjoyed it nevertheless.

They snuck into the Owlery before breakfast and used one of the school birds to deliver the package, then hurried to the Great Hall to watch the fun. They had just seated themselves at the Slytherin table when the owl dropped the package on the Gryffindor table in front of Potter.

"Ooh, James, who's your secret admirer?" Black teased.

"If I knew," Potter said lightly, "it wouldn't be a secret." But his eyes slid down the table to where Lily Evans was seated. Although she seemed to be ignoring him, he grinned widely. He opened the box and said, "Hey, homemade chocolates!"

"Whoever she is, she must be really stuck on you, James!" Pettigrew said enviously.

Potter just grinned smugly and popped one of the chocolates into his mouth. From the Slytherin table, Rosier, Wilkes, and Snape watched eagerly as Potter chewed and swallowed. "Mm, they're good!" he said, then held out the box to Lupin, who was sitting next to him. "Want to try one, Remy?"

Rosier and Wilkes grinned at each other; they hadn't intended to dose anyone but Potter, but if other Gryffindors got a taste of the Swelling Solution, well, that was an added bonus. Snape, however, felt slightly alarmed as Potter offered the candy to Lupin; he hadn't wanted to do anything to Lupin, who was the only one of Potter's group who was halfway decent to Snape. _It's not as if Lupin's really your friend,_ he told himself, then thought viciously, _It serves him right, for hanging around with the likes of Potter and Black!_

But still, Snape felt relieved when Lupin just laughed and said, "Oh, I couldn't take any--your secret admirer made them specially for you!"

"I'll take one!" Black said, reaching out for a piece of candy, but Potter dropped the box, spilling the chocolates on the floor, and clutched his head between his hands.

"Are you all right, James?" Lupin asked, looking concerned.

"I feel a little dizzy," Potter replied.

"Maybe you should go to the hospital wing," Black started to say, but his mouth dropped open as Potter's head--along with his body and limbs--began swelling up like a balloon.

Rosier, Wilkes, and Snape burst out laughing. Their housemates soon followed suit, but it had not escaped Black's notice that the three of them had started laughing first. As Professor McGonagall hurried Potter off to see Madam Pomfrey, Black ran over to the Slytherin table and shouted, "You did this! I'll get you for this, Snivellus!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Black," Snape said coolly.

Black reached for his wand, but by then Professor Blackmore and Professor De Lacy, the Head of Slytherin, had made their way down from the head table.

"What's going on here?" De Lacy asked in a cold voice, sounding annoyed at having his breakfast interrupted. He was a tall, thin man with silver hair and an air of aristocratic elegance about him. He always looked a little weary, and conducted his classes as if he were reluctantly granting his students a great boon by deigning to share his knowledge with them. Lately, though, he had been looking more tired and frazzled than usual, and it was rumored that he would retire soon.

"Put that wand away before I give you detention, Black," Blackmore added sharply.

Black put away his wand, but pointed at Snape and his two cohorts, and said accusingly, "They poisoned James!"

"That's quite an accusation, Mr. Black," said De Lacy. "Have you any proof to back it up?" Professor De Lacy, like most of the other Heads of House, tended to favor his own House above the others. If his students were caught in the act of wrongdoing, he would punish them mercilessly, but his unspoken motto was, "If I didn't see it, it didn't happen." His reasoning was, if his Slytherins were clever enough not to get caught, he didn't really care what they did, and if they were stupid enough to get caught, then they deserved whatever punishment they got.

Pettigrew ran over with the box of chocolates, while Lupin just watched from the Gryffindor table with a slightly worried look on his face. "Here!" said the mousy boy, thrusting the box at the two teachers. "They must have put something in the candy!"

De Lacy carefully picked up one of the chocolates, examined it closely, and cautiously sniffed at it. "Swelling Solution, I believe. Mr. Potter will be fine once Madam Pomfrey gives him a Deflating Draught."

"If it's something to do with potions, then it must be Snape!" Black shouted.

Snape stared back at Black calmly, and said in a tone of offended dignity, "Does anyone really think that I would be sending Potter, of all people, candy on Valentine's Day?"

"Potter's not at all your type, Snape," Wilkes agreed helpfully, and the other Slytherins laughed.

"He did it!" Black shrieked. "I know he did! And those two probably helped him!"

Blackmore said, "There's no name on the box. Did anyone see them deliver it?"

"It came by owl," Black admitted reluctantly. "But I know it was Snape! Who else could have brewed the Swelling Solution?"

"We all learned how to make it in second-year Potions class," Snape said scornfully. "It's a simple enough potion; even _you_ could have made it, Black..."

"Mr. Snape," Blackmore said, a note of warning in her voice, and Snape subsided.

"What self-respecting Slytherin would make such a silly-looking thing, even to poison a Gryffindor?" Rosier asked in an oh-so-reasonable tone of voice, his eyes wide with feigned innocence, as he pointed at the frilly heart-shaped valentine Wilkes had made. "Can you really picture _Snape_ sitting in his room cutting out paper hearts?" The Slytherins laughed again, and Professor De Lacy glared at them, although Professor Blackmore seemed to fighting back a small smile.

"Well," De Lacy said as the laughter died down under his quelling stare, "unless you can produce any proof connecting my students to this prank, Mr. Black, you may go back to your table and keep your baseless accusations to yourself."

"So they're just going to get away with it?!" Black howled.

"This may not be a court of law, Mr. Black," Blackmore said in a cool voice, "but we do not convict anyone without evidence. Just as, I seem to recall, no one was punished for certain drawings that were made in the second floor boys' bathroom, since no one could prove who drew them, although there were a few likely suspects..." She gave Black a hard stare, and Black flushed, nervously evading her gaze. Someone had drawn caricatures of Snape with an exaggeratedly big nose on the bathroom wall; Snape knew perfectly well that Black was responsible, but couldn't prove it. Snape had gotten his own back by casting a hex on Black that had made his nose grow till it was nearly three feet long; that was the stunt that had cost him the week's detention he had just finished, but it had been worth it. Blackmore was a strict teacher, but notoriously fair; she didn't normally tolerate such things, but since Gryffindor had not been punished for their last prank, it seemed she was willing to let this one slide on behalf of Slytherin. 

Black fumed, and muttered under his breath, "You'll pay for this, Snivelly."

"If I hear one more word out of you, Black, it will be ten points off Gryffindor," Blackmore said. "Now get back to your table."

Snape, Rosier, and Wilkes grinned at each other as Black slunk back to the Gryffindor table, with Pettigrew scuttling after him. Their smiles faded as the two Professors glared sternly at the trio.

"I don't like having my breakfast interrupted," De Lacy said coldly. "And I expect the rest of the day to be quiet and uneventful--in fact, I expect the rest of the week to be quiet and uneventful; is that clear, boys?"

"Yes, sir," the trio chorused. De Lacy headed back to the staff table, but Blackmore lingered behind.

"I'm getting very tired of this inter-House rivalry," Blackmore said in a dangerous tone. "As far as I'm concerned, Gryffindor and Slytherin are even now, so you three had better not put one toe out of line, or you'll all be scrubbing bedpans in the hospital wing. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," they chorused. And such were Blackmore's powers of intimidation, that even Rosier and Wilkes were remarkably well-behaved, at least for a couple of weeks...

*** 

Snape sighed, his mind returning back to the present. He supposed that prank, and a few other similar incidents, were the reason why he had felt so guilty about Rosier's and Wilkes's deaths, and why he had felt duty-bound to help Rosier's son: Rosier and Wilkes had been the closest thing he had to friends in school. Not friends the way the Marauders had been friends, of course, but someone like Snape couldn't afford to be too picky...he wondered if the pangs of loneliness he had experienced in school would have been quite so sharp if not for Lupin.

For most of his first two years at school, Snape had been content with his standing in Slytherin House. He had resented Potter, for winning the top rank in school as well as the Headmaster's favor, but on the other hand, his housemates had been impressed by his knowledge of the Dark Arts, and the influential Lucius Malfoy had welcomed the younger boy into his inner circle, which made young Snape one of the Slytherin elite. It was not until Snape became aware of Remus Lupin, that he noticed how alone he really was. It was not until he saw how close Lupin was to Potter, Black, and Pettigrew, that Snape began to covet that same closeness, and was consumed by jealousy and bitterness, because he knew it was something he could never have...

He tried to shake off those old feelings of jealousy and insecurity, reminding himself that Lupin was his lover now. _Lupin loves me,_ he tried to reassure himself. _Loves me best, more than Potter or Black._ He remembered what Lupin had told him, the night Snape had saved Black's worthless life: "You can be first in my heart, always," and Snape felt a little better. He knew his thoughts were childish and petty, but it still gave him great satisfaction to know that he was finally first in Lupin's affections, after so many years of following Lupin around and watching from the sidelines just to get a small smile and an occasional kind word. Suddenly Snape no longer wanted to be alone, and wanted more than anything to see Lupin in person. He quickly left the school grounds and Apparated himself over to the Phoenix headquarters.

*** 

"Severus!" Lupin said, looking surprised but pleased. "I'm so glad to see you!"

For once, Snape wasn't annoyed with Lupin for looking happy to see him; in fact, thanks to the unpleasant memories Dylan's lesson had stirred up, Snape was actually grateful for it. Besides, no one seemed to be around right now, so Snape said softly, "I'm glad to see you too, Remus." He almost laughed at the stunned expression on Lupin's face. "What's the matter, aren't you happy to see me?" he asked jokingly.

Lupin recovered quickly, and grinned at Snape. "I'm always happy to see you, Severus! Can you stay over tonight?"

"Yes," Snape said, feeling his bad mood dissipate. "Would you like to--" Snape was about to suggest they go upstairs to their rooms, when Hermione Granger walked in the front door carrying an armload of books. Sirius Black followed behind her, carrying a suitcase. The girl's mangy cat trailed after them, hissing at Snape as if he had heard the unspoken "mangy" comment.

"Hello, Professor Lupin," Granger said cheerfully. Then, politely but a little nervously, "Hello, Professor Snape."

"Hello, Hermione," Lupin said with a smile.

Black frowned when he saw Snape, but all he said was, "Let's get your stuff stowed away, Hermione."

"Thanks, Sirius!" the girl replied, and they both headed upstairs, followed by the cat.

Snape scowled, thinking to himself that his good mood had been very short-lived. "Are the brats moving in already?" he asked, not quite able to keep a whine out of his voice.

"Yes, Severus," Lupin replied calmly. "I was just about to leave with Sirius and Branwen to pick up Harry."

"Lovely," Snape muttered sourly. Then he looked around suspiciously, thinking that the house was awfully quiet. "Are the Weasley brats here yet?"

Lupin sighed, in his usual long-suffering way. "Please try not to call them brats, Severus. At the very least, not when Molly's around. But no, they aren't here yet. Molly and Arthur will be bringing Ron and Ginny over later tonight. Perhaps you'll be relieved to learn that Fred and George are too busy running their new joke shop to spend the summer with us."

"Thank Merlin for small favors," Snape said.

"Yes, well, try not to bring up the subject around Molly. She's still rather upset about them dropping out of school. They refused to come back, even after Albus was reinstated as Headmaster. I hear the shop's doing well, though."

Snape started to say he didn't give a damn about how the shop was doing, then changed his mind. If the shop did well, it meant two less Weasleys at both Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts, which was all to the good, as far as Snape was concerned. He felt a little better; no more worrying about the Weasley twins eavesdropping with their Extendable Ears, no more worrying about them blowing up the house with some ridiculous experiment...

Branwen came down the stairs, followed by a large dog--Black in his Animagus form. Snape stared in shock: she was dressed in Muggle-type clothing--a green blouse, short (well, compared to her usual floor-length robes) black skirt, and ankle-high black suede boots. Her hair was tied back in a long tail, and she looked surprisingly young and girlish--almost young enough to pass for a student, in fact. 

She smiled self-consciously and said, "I feel a bit silly dressed like this."

"You look lovely, Branwen," Lupin said gallantly, and Snape belatedly noticed that he was also dressed in Muggle clothes, although his attire--long overcoat over faded-and-patched shirt and trousers--was not that different from what he normally wore. 

Snape looked back at Branwen, then realized his jaw was hanging open and hastily closed it. Black seemed to be in a state of shock as well, although it was difficult to tell when he was in his dog form, but his eyes looked a little dazed, and his tongue was hanging out in a way that looked more human than canine. Snape also noticed that the dog's eyes seemed to be staring at Branwen's bare legs, and he frowned and said, "I hope you aren't looking up her skirt, Black..."

Branwen and the dog let out simultaneous yelps. Black growled at Snape reprovingly, but he did seem to look just a bit guilty...

"He had better not be," Branwen said, flushing slightly as she gave the dog an evil look. "Unless he wants to be trapped in that form permanently."

"Why is he in that flea-bitten form, anyway?" asked Snape. "He's no longer a fugitive."

Black snarled, and made as if to bite Snape's ankle, but Branwen snapped, "Sirius, heel!" The dog looked mortified, but tucked his tail between his legs and slunk over to Branwen's side, giving Snape a sullen glare.

Lupin just looked amused, and replied to Snape's question, "He said he'd rather be a dog than wear Muggle clothes."

"Er...you're not going out without your wand, are you?" Snape asked Branwen. She wasn't exactly dressed scandalously--at least, it probably wouldn't seem so if she hadn't once been his teacher--but he didn't see anyplace she could possibly hide a wand in that Muggle costume.

"It's right here," she said, patting a large purse that was slung over one shoulder. "It seems a bit inconvenient, though, for Muggle women to have to tote this thing around everywhere they go." Black had crept forward to growl at Snape again, and Branwen lightly whacked the dog across the nose with the purse. "Hmm, it can come in handy, after all," she mused, as Black yelped and gave her a reproachful look. She ignored him and asked, "Ready to go, Remus?"

"Yes. We'll be back soon, Severus." Lupin looked at Snape a little anxiously. "You are still staying over, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'll stay," said Snape. Although he wasn't pleased about the brats moving in, he really needed to be with Lupin tonight. As the three wizards headed towards the front door, something suddenly occurred to him. "Wait a minute! All three of you are going?" He didn't see Tonks or Shacklebolt around, which was not surprising, since it was not a meeting day, and Lupin had already said that the Weasleys weren't coming till later. "You're leaving me alone with Granger?" Snape asked, feeling put out and somehow a little frantic.

"Surely you're not afraid of a little girl, Severus," Branwen said dryly, and Black made a barking noise that sounded very much like a laugh.

"Well, no, but..." Snape said, his voice trailing off as he tried to come up with a reasonable objection. He didn't know why the idea bothered him so much; it wasn't as if he didn't normally have a dungeon full of brats to look after at school...but the idea of spending his free time, his vacation time, here with the girl--a Gryffindor and Potter's friend, two strikes against her already--was distinctly unappealing.

"Actually, I'm glad you showed up when you did," Lupin said cheerfully. "Even though the house is well-protected, I didn't really want to leave Hermione alone--"

"I'm not a baby-sitter!" Snape yelled. Maybe that was what was bothering him; it was one thing to be an Order member visiting the house where the brats were living. It was quite another to be left in charge of the girl, as if she were a friend or family member. He didn't want to have any sort of personal relationship at all with the children; it was bad enough being their teacher!

"For heaven's sake, Severus," Branwen said irritably. "No one's asking you to baby-sit; the girl is responsible and well-behaved. She'll probably spend the whole time unpacking; I doubt you'll even see her until we get back." Then she grinned. "And besides, you won't be alone; Bane is staying behind." The raven, who was perched on the staircase railing, gave a loud, disgruntled croak and glared at his mistress. "There's no point in going to the trouble of wearing Muggle disguises if I'm going to carry around something as conspicuous as my raven familiar. People will stare, and we don't want to attract attention. Besides, Harry says his relatives hate anything remotely magical or witchy." Bane continued to sulk, and Branwen reached over to scratch him on the head. "You'll protect Severus from Miss Granger, won't you?" she crooned.

"BRANWEN!" Snape howled, while Lupin chuckled and Black barked out another laugh.

"I'll see you soon, love," Lupin said, giving Snape a quick peck on the cheek.

"And don't do that while there are children in the house!" Snape roared.

"Better be quiet before Hermione comes down to see what all the fuss is about," Branwen said with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Snape glared at her, looking almost as sulky as the raven, and despite his complaints about being left alone with Granger, was a little relieved when she finally left, along with Lupin and Black.

Snape growled to himself, until he realized he was sounding more like a dog than Black, and headed upstairs to his room. To his surprise, Bane flew over and landed on his shoulder. "Oof!" Snape said. "You're heavy, Bane! I wonder how Branwen carries you around all the time without dislocating her shoulder?" Bane glared at him, and snapped his beak shut perilously close to Snape's ear. Snape chuckled and reached up to stroke Bane's chest, and the bird looked mollified. "Well, we've both been abandoned, so shall we keep each other company till they get back?" Bane croaked in agreement, and they went upstairs. 

Snape paused on the first landing; what was that dreadful caterwauling noise coming from down the hall? He had thought Black and the others had gotten rid of all the vermin in the house, but perhaps Miss Granger had managed to stumble across a previously hidden occupant. He pulled out his wand and headed down the hallway, grumbling to himself, "I told Lupin I'm not a baby-sitter!"

But as he drew closer to the source of the sound, he realized it was music--or at least something that was supposed to pass for music. He peered in the half-open door of Granger's room, and saw the girl bent over her suitcase, unpacking her belongings. The "music" was indeed coming from some Muggle contraption; no doubt Lupin would find it fascinating. Snape scowled and pocketed his wand, and had turned to leave when suddenly a small object came flying out of the room and struck him on the leg. He winced and reached down to rub his shin, as Bane squawked and flapped his wings to keep his balance on Snape's shoulder.

Granger, looked up, startled, at the sound of Bane's voice. "Professor!" she exclaimed. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you standing there! I was aiming for the wastebasket." She hastily ran over to pick up the object, which was a small box that had fallen open and spilled out its contents, a pair of rose-shaped silver earrings. 

"Considering your aim," Snape said sourly, "it's a good thing for Gryffindor that you don't play on the Quidditch team." The girl flushed, then picked up the box and earrings and threw them in the wastebasket. "Er..aren't those Mr. Rosier's Christmas gift to you?"

"Dylan doesn't want to be my friend anymore," Granger said in a rather snippy tone; if they'd been in class, Snape would have taken points off Gryffindor for that. "So I don't want his presents!" As she turned away, Snape noticed that her eyes were red, and he thought he heard a sniffle as she continued to unpack her suitcase.

 _It's none of my business,_ he told himself as he lingered outside the door. _It's none of my business, it's none of my business..._ But his body was not listening to his mind, because he found himself bending down to retrieve the earrings from the wastebasket. _Damn it, hanging around with the werewolf has made me soft!_ He stood there scowling down at the earrings in his hand. Why was he doing this? It wasn't as if he wanted Dylan taking up with a Gryffindor girl... Bane cawed softly, as if to encourage him, and Snape growled, "You're just as bad as your mistress." He strode across the room and slammed the earrings down on the girl's desk with a loud thump. She looked up with a start as Snape said curtly, "A gift from a friend should not be so easily discarded."

"But...but..." Granger stammered. She clearly wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but unlike her friends Potter and Weasley, was too well-mannered to talk back to a teacher. It was a pity, really, that she had been sorted into Gryffindor, but she was too much of a goody-two-shoes to have ever been sorted into Slytherin. And of course, a Muggle-born girl probably would not have fared very well in Slytherin House...

"Do not blame Mr. Rosier," Snape said, still in that curt, cold voice. "It was I who told him to sever relations with you."

"B-but why?" Granger asked, looking hurt and angry. 

"Use your head, you silly girl!" Snape snapped. "I thought you, at least, had some sense, even if your idiot friends have none! It would be dangerous if people found out that Dylan had a Gryffindor friend."

"I know Dylan was afraid of getting expelled, but--"

"I said dangerous, not inconvenient, Miss Granger!" Snape snarled. "Getting expelled is the least of Mr. Rosier's worries at present."

The girl began to look frightened. "Dylan is in danger?"

"Do you really need to ask, considering everything that's happened recently?" Snape asked impatiently. "Is it not obvious that we are all in danger? I know that little detail has not escaped your attention, because the Headmaster told me the true purpose behind the 'Dumbledore's Army' you organized."

Granger flushed, and looked at Snape nervously, as if expecting to be berated for her role in the illicit group. When he said nothing, she asked, "Dylan is in danger, because Vol--" Snape flinched, and she hastily changed it to, "--You-Know-Who would be angry if he found out the son of one his followers was associating with a Gryffindor? Or is it something more...?"

The girl, like Dylan, was too damn clever for her own good. "Let's just leave it at that, Miss Granger," Snape said in a tone that brooked no argument. "I've already told you more than I should. To say more would put both you and Dylan in greater danger." Granger gave him a startled, thoughtful look, and Snape silently cursed his little slip of the tongue; he had not meant to imply that he was concerned about the girl, because he wasn't! Really! He was merely worried that she might get both Dylan and himself killed if she started gossiping to her friends, and they in turn spread it around the school.

"So Dylan doesn't really hate me," she sighed in relief.

Snape scowled. Stupid moony girl; he had thought Miss Granger was more sensible than that. _I seem to recall a boy who spent most of his time at school mooning over a certain werewolf..._ the sarcastic voice in his head pointed out.

 _So who asked you?_ Snape retorted. Aloud, he said, "No, he does not. But you will not repeat any of this to anyone, including Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley." Then, remembering that Granger had shared this room with Ginny Weasley last summer, he added, "Or Miss Weasley, for that matter. In fact, this conversation never happened; do you understand me, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir," she said, smiling at him gratefully. "Thank you, sir." Snape felt his face grow hot, and he quickly turned away to leave, when Granger called out, "Oh, Professor?"

"What is it?" he asked irritably.

"Would...would you tell Dylan that I'm not mad at him anymore?" Granger asked timidly. 

"Do I look like a messenger owl?" Snape said in a waspish voice. The girl's face fell, and Snape once again cursed Lupin for infecting him with his softhearted attitude. "Oh, very well," he grumbled. "When I happen to see him, which might not be till school starts again." Which was a lie, of course, but he didn't want any of the children to know that he was secretly giving Dylan Occlumency lessons.

Granger beamed at him. "Thank you, Professor Snape!"

"Remember, this conversation never happened!" Snape growled in a threatening voice.

"What conversation?" she asked innocently.

Snape turned on his heel and quickly fled the room. From his shoulder, Bane began to laugh in a hoarse, croaking voice. "Oh, shut up!" Snape snapped, but the bird, like most of the other occupants of the house, paid him no heed.

*** 

Hermione sat down on the floor in a state of shock. Had Professor Snape actually done something NICE for her? Although she consistently defended him to Ron and Harry, she would never have expected him to do such a thing; even though he was on the side of the good guys, she knew it was unrealistic to expect Snape to suddenly start behaving as kindly as Dumbledore. She giggled a little at that thought, and Crookshanks ambled over and curled up in her lap. She absent-mindedly stroked the cat as she replayed her conversation with Snape over in her mind.

No matter how hard she racked her brain, she could not come up with a logical reason for Snape to have told her about Dylan's true reasons for breaking off their friendship...except to spare her feelings. Why would Snape care whether her feelings were hurt or not? He had never gone out of his way to be nice before. But on second thought, that wasn't really true...he had given them those Potions textbooks for Christmas last year, even if Professor Lupin had made him do it. And come to think of it, he had just complimented her, if in a rather backhanded way: he had thought she was sensible enough to be told the truth, intelligent enough to recognize the danger, and trustworthy enough to keep it confidential. He had even agreed to carry her message to Dylan--rather grudgingly, to be sure, but still, he had agreed to do it.

"I knew he wasn't so bad after all!" she said triumphantly to Crookshanks, who just purred at her. She wished Harry and Ron had been here to witness what had just happened, because they stubbornly persisted in doubting Snape's loyalty despite the fact that Dumbledore trusted him. It was too bad that she couldn't tell them about it, but she had promised to keep it a secret. She sighed and muttered, "Oh well, they probably wouldn't believe me, anyway..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking back on this fic now, I'm amused to see that I came up with the Geas spell, which seems to have unwittingly foreshadowed the Unbreakable Vow. (As mentioned in the header, this story was written pre-HBP.) Well, I didn't invent the Geas myself, of course--it's a common element in Celtic legends, including the geas where Math must rest his feet in the lap of a virgin in the Mabinogion. A geas isn't exactly like an Unbreakable Vow--it seems to be a more of a random curse or taboo, while the Vow is a pact between two people, but breaking a geas is usually fatal, and I wonder if helped to inspire JKR when she created the Unbreakable Vow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape agrees to teach Harry Occlumency again; Lupin has a confrontation with Snape after he returns from a Death Eaters summons; and the wolf gets a little playful during the full moon.

Sirius was delighted that his godson was coming to stay for the rest of the summer; even Snape's unexpected arrival couldn't dampen his good spirits. But he really hoped that Remy wasn't going to keep making out publicly with Snape on a regular basis. Sirius frowned; he would have to remind Moony to behave himself--there were going to be children in the house starting today, after all! It seemed like Snape was going to be around a lot more this summer, more's the pity...ever since Snape had saved his life, Sirius felt even more uncomfortable around the Potions Master than usual. 

_Damn it, why did it have to be Snape who saved me?_ Sirius thought to himself. Then he remembered how Branwen had scolded him for being ungrateful, and his conscience reminded him that he had never thanked Snape for saving him. (He supposed that a "Thank you, you slimy git!" didn't really count.) Still, Snape didn't seem to expect to be thanked; he said he had done it only for Remus's sake, and he seemed to hate Sirius as much as he always had. Suddenly Sirius wondered if their positions had been reversed, if it would have occurred to him to risk his life to save Snape's, if only for Remy's sake. 

_Probably not,_ he admitted, and that made him a little uneasy--did that mean, that of the two of them, Snape was the better man? Then Sirius shook his head vigorously, as if trying to shake off those disturbing thoughts. The whole point was moot, anyway, since Sirius did not know how to perform a Blood Healing spell--it was classified as Dark Magic, and thus was not taught at Hogwarts. Snape must have learned it either from his parents or the Death Eaters. Wouldn't that be ironic, if Snape had saved Sirius with a spell Voldemort had taught him? Sirius laughed, albeit a bit grimly.

Well, he had no time to think about Snape right now; it was time to go pick up Harry. Sirius quickly transformed himself into dog form and left his room. Branwen emerged from her own room just as Sirius was trotting down the hall, and he froze in his tracks at the sight of her. Instead of her usual long robes, she was wearing Muggle clothing: a green blouse just a shade lighter than her emerald-colored eyes, and a black skirt that ended just above her knees. Her waist-length hair was tied back in a ponytail, and that last touch made her look much younger than her years. She looked almost girlish...very pretty, in fact. 

Branwen saw him staring and misunderstood his expression; she was usually more perceptive, but perhaps it was harder to read a dog's face than a human's. "I know I look silly dressed like this," she said with a scowl. "But since we have to go out among Muggles..." She sighed. "It's a pity I can't turn myself into a dog, too. Well, come on, let's go and get this over with." 

Sirius followed obediently, still a little stunned. Not helping his state of mind was the fact that Branwen's long legs were more-or-less at his dog form's eye level. _Branwen has legs,_ he thought in amazement, then told himself sharply, _Of course she has legs, you moron!_ But he had never noticed before what nice, shapely legs she had, since they had always been covered up by her robes... Horrified, Sirius-the-dog paused to shake himself and try to get his brain working properly again. He could not be having these kinds of thoughts about his former teacher, the dreaded Professor Blackmore, whom all the students had feared, who had given him detention on countless occasions!

"Sirius," Branwen called impatiently, "what are you doing? Honestly, sometimes I think your brain turns as doggish as your body when you transform!"

Sirius hastened to catch up with her, grateful that dogs don't blush, and doubly grateful that Branwen could not read his mind. He followed her downstairs, apparently still looking somewhat dazed, because Snape frowned and said, "I hope you aren't looking up her skirt, Black..."

Sirius yelped guiltily, because although he hadn't been looking up her skirt, he had been staring at her legs, still having those very unsettling, less-than-platonic thoughts. He growled at Snape angrily; to think he had been feeling guilty about not thanking that slimy Slytherin bastard! How could Snape read Sirius's face when Branwen couldn't? Maybe the time he spent with Remus in wolf form had taught Snape to read canine expressions better than most people...

Branwen yelped as well, glaring at Sirius as she said, "He had better not be, unless he wants to be trapped in that form permanently."

Sirius gave her a hurt and offended look; why did she always automatically believe Snape?

"Why is he in that flea-bitten form, anyway?" sneered Snape. "He's no longer a fugitive."

 _I'll show you who's flea-bitten!_ thought Sirius, as he snarled and bared his teeth. He was just about to take a chunk out of Snape's leg when Branwen snapped, "Sirius, heel!" He gave her a mortified look, but she glared back at him mercilessly, transformed back from pretty young girl into stern Professor Blackmore. There was no arguing with that look or tone of voice; Sirius reluctantly slunk over to her side, glaring sullenly at Snape. Well, one good thing about this was that those disturbing new feelings had abruptly vanished, as if he had just been doused with a bucket of cold water.

Remus, that traitor, looked amused by the whole thing, and said, "He said he'd rather be a dog than wear Muggle clothes."

Sirius was beginning to sorely regret that decision. And he didn't like the way Snape was looking Branwen up and down; should a man who was supposed to be gay be looking at a woman, particularly his former teacher, that closely? And in front of his lover, no less? Well, perhaps it was just shock, because the expression on Snape's face was more affronted than prurient, but Sirius still didn't like it. 

"Er...you're not going out without your wand, are you?" Snape asked, clearly trying to picture where on earth she could have hidden it.

"It's right here," she said, patting a large purse that was slung over one shoulder. "It seems a bit inconvenient, though, for Muggle women to have to tote this thing around everywhere they go." Meanwhile, Sirius was creeping forward, hoping to take a bite out of Snape to punish him for his insolence. Unfortunately, Branwen noticed and swatted him on the nose with her purse. Sirius yelped and glared at her as she said, "Hmm, it can come in handy, after all. Ready to go, Remus?"

 _I can't believe I was just thinking she was pretty!_ Sirius thought petulantly. _We're talking about demonic Professor Blackmore, after all!_

Sirius sulkily followed them to the door, taking a little pleasure in the fact that Snape was very put out about being left alone with Hermione. Even more amusing was the look on Snape's face when Branwen told Bane to stay behind and "protect" Snape from Hermione. The Potions Master and the raven stared at them with near-identical grumpy expressions on their faces as Branwen, Remus, and Sirius left. Sirius felt quite happy to leave both of them behind; he had never liked Bane. In school, the bird used to sit on a perch by Professor Blackmore's desk, glowering at the students and squawking loudly to alert his mistress when any of them got up to mischief behind her back. And once, Bane had pecked Sirius on the hand sharply, hard enough to draw blood, when the raven had caught him trying to sneak a dungbomb into Snape's bookbag. Sirius was not at all surprised to find out that Bane was actually a creature from the Demon Realm sent by Branwen's forefather, Araqiel, to watch over her. Most of the children at Hogwarts had secretly thought that Bane was a demon, anyway.

But his bad mood evaporated once they got outside, and he ran ahead and frolicked like a puppy as Branwen and Remus laughed. It felt so good to get out of the house, it felt so good to no longer be a fugitive and a prisoner! Sirius ran barking at a flock of pigeons, sending them taking to the safety of a nearby tree in a flurry of flapping wings and falling feathers. One downy feather fell onto Sirius's nose, tickling it, and he sneezed loudly, the force of that sneeze causing him to sit back on his haunches.

Branwen shook her head. "What did those pigeons ever do to you, Sirius?"

Remus just smiled indulgently. "Oh, let him be, Branwen. He was cooped up in the house for almost a year, after all."

Branwen and Remus walked at a sedate pace as they headed to the train station to meet Harry. Sirius ran ahead, working off his pent-up energy, then ran back to bark at them impatiently. "Take it easy, Sirius," Branwen said. "There's no rush. We've got plenty of time, and it's too hot to be running around in weather like this. And you're the one with a fur coat; don't blame me if you faint from heatstroke."

Lupin laughed. "Actually, the fur serves to trap air between the hairs, keeping us canines cool in the summer and warm in the winter."

"Well, you would know, I suppose," Branwen conceded with a smile. "By the way, aren't you hot in that coat?"

Lupin sighed. "Yes, but it's the closest I could get to a wizard's robe, and I admit I would feel a bit undressed walking around without a robe. Besides, I need somewhere to hide my wand, and unlike you, I can't carry a purse." He grinned. "At least, not without attracting unwanted attention."

"Yes, well, I suppose this Muggle outfit does have its advantages," Branwen said. "For one thing, it's much cooler than a long robe..." 

But her outfit also had some disadvantages, which became obvious when a young man passing by them blatantly ogled her. She scowled at him and started to mutter a hex under her breath, but Sirius leapt forward, barking and baring his teeth in a threatening manner. The man hastily crossed to the other side of the street, shouting, "You should keep that dog on a leash!"

"Good dog," said Branwen, patting Sirius on the head. Sirius barked happily and wagged his tail. He remained by her side the rest of the way to the station, and his presence seemed to ward off the attentions of any other would-be admirers. A few more men gave Branwen appreciative glances, but quickly continued on their way when the saw the huge black dog at her side growling at them menacingly.

Branwen and Remus grinned at each other over Sirius's head. "You've become quite the watchdog, Padfoot, old friend," Remus laughed, reaching down to scratch Sirius behind the ears. Since it was Remus, Sirius tolerated it and wagged his tail. Actually, the scratching did feel very good when he was in dog form, but he still couldn't understand how Remus could let Snape touch him like that. Moony was a good person and a loyal friend, but he had the worst taste in men...

Then thoughts about Snape vanished from his head as he caught sight of Harry. His aunt, uncle, and cousin stood behind him, looking fearful and resentful, but Sirius had eyes only for Harry. He jumped up, placing his front paws on Harry's chest as he covered Harry's face with enthusiastic swipes of his tongue.

"I'm happy to see you too, Snuffles!" Harry laughed, giving the dog a hug. His relatives hurried off, as if they couldn't get away fast enough, and Harry turned to greet the other two wizards. "Hello, Professor Lupin, Professor Black..." His jaw dropped open when he saw Branwen in her Muggle outfit. "...more," he finished weakly.

"Do I look that ridiculous?" she sighed.

"No, not at all!" Harry hastily demurred. "You look very pretty!" Then he blushed, his face turning bright red.

Branwen laughed. "What a gentleman you are, Harry! So much more well-mannered than your godfather," she added, looking at Sirius, who glared at her as everyone laughed. Then he gave in and started laughing too, barking and wagging his tail.

*** 

Harry didn't mind walking back to the house, laughing as Sirius barked happily and ran in circles around him. He carried Hedwig's covered cage, and Lupin took his suitcase, casting a quickly muttered charm to make it lighter.

"Have your aunt and uncle been treating you all right, Harry?" Lupin asked. 

"Yeah, that warning you guys gave them seems to have done the trick," Harry said with a grin. "I think they're afraid you might turn 'em into toads or something."

"'Or something,' I think," Blackmore said with a wicked smile. "One does like to be creative, and toads are rather passe..."

"I never want to make you angry at me, Professor!" Harry said fervently, and the adults laughed. He enjoyed the walk home, making small talk with Lupin and Blackmore, and laughing at Sirius's antics. Blackmore's mood seemed to have changed along with her style of dress, because she laughed and joked with him in a surprisingly lighthearted manner. And he hadn't been lying earlier at the station; she really did look very pretty in Muggle clothing. Not that she looked ugly in wizard's robes--far from it, but she looked much less intimidating like this.

They reached the house, and Sirius transformed back into his normal shape and gave Harry a proper hug. Hermione came running down the stairs to hug him as well. Then to Harry's surprise, he saw Professor Snape descending the staircase with Bane perched on his shoulder. Snape was feeding Bane a small cookie, which the bird gobbled down eagerly. "You're getting crumbs on my robe," he complained, and the raven rubbed his head against Snape's cheek affectionately before flying over to Blackmore's shoulder, squawking at her in alternately relieved and scolding tones.

"Goodness," she said, petting the bird and trying to calm him down. "You'd think I was gone for a week, with all the fuss you're making!" As she watched Snape brush cookie crumbs off his shoulder, she said, "You shouldn't spoil him, Severus, you'll make him fat." Bane croaked indignantly.

"He's already fat," Snape said sourly, and Bane croaked again. "My shoulder is killing me; I don't know how you can carry him around all day. I was just feeding him to keep him quiet--I'm glad you got back before he ate me out of house and home."

"It's _my_ house and home," Sirius muttered under his breath.

Lupin laughed as he walked over to Snape, saying, "You mean you were afraid he'd clean out your secret stash of sweets, Severus!" Then he leaned close and said softly--just barely loud enough for Harry to overhear--"You old softie."

"LUPIN!" Snape said, looking as indignant as Bane. He glared at Lupin, then glared at Harry as well, his face looking more sour than ever. Lupin just grinned at him, and Snape turned on his heel and went back upstairs, looking rather huffy. Lupin laughed and followed behind him.

Harry felt very strange; he knew he should be grateful to Snape for saving Sirius's life, but Snape continued to treat him as unpleasantly as ever, as if nothing had changed. And he felt very uncomfortable knowing about the relationship between Snape and Lupin. The fact that they were both men was disconcerting enough--though Harry didn't think of himself as prejudiced, he had never known anyone who was gay before, but mostly he just didn't understand what Lupin saw in Snape. Lupin was a very nice person who had been a friend to Harry, and he didn't really like the thought of him being with Snape, who had tormented Harry at school for the past five years. Besides, Snape was rude, bitter, sarcastic, and if all that wasn't bad enough, he had gotten Lupin fired--or to be more accurate, forced him to resign, but it amounted to the same thing--from his job at Hogwarts two years ago. Why on earth would Lupin want to be with someone like that?

"Come on, Harry," Sirius said, interrupting his thoughts. "Why don't we get you settled in and unpacked?"

"Sure, Sirius."

Hermione started to go after them, but Blackmore stopped her by placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "Would you help me get dinner started, dear? Molly will be busy moving Ron and Ginny in, and besides, we shouldn't expect her to cook for us all the time."

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said obediently, and Harry shot Blackmore a grateful look, knowing she was deliberately giving him a chance to talk to Sirius alone. Then he had the worrisome thought that she might be versed in Legilimency--it seemed almost as if she had read his mind. He certainly hoped not! He tried to reassure himself that it was only natural that he'd want to spend some time alone with his godfather after being apart for so long, and it didn't take a mind-reader to figure that out.

"Can I ask you something, Sirius?" Harry said, once they were alone his room. 

"Sure, Harry," Sirius replied, grinning cheerfully at him as he began helping Harry unpack and hang up his clothes in the closet.

"How long have Lupin and Professor Snape been together? And _why_ are they together--I mean, what does Lupin see in him?"

Sirius's smile vanished and he sighed heavily. "I wish I knew, Harry," he said, sounding a bit disgruntled. "I can't figure it out myself; you'll have to ask Remus if you really want to know. As for 'how long,' they got together in fifth year while working on Professor Blackmore's project, then broke up after--" Sirius broke off and flushed, and Harry could guess why: they had broken up after Sirius sent Snape to the Shrieking Shack. Sirius cleared his throat and continued, "Then, apparently, they got back together again while Remus was teaching at Hogwarts."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed. "B-but Snape was so mean to Professor Lupin the entire time he was there!" He paused to think, then said reluctantly, "I guess it could have been an act so that no one would suspect the truth, but then why did he get Lupin fired?"

"It was my fault," Sirius admitted, looking shamefaced and resentful at the same time. "Snape's always hated my guts. When he caught all of us together in the Shrieking Shack, he thought Remus had been helping me behind his back, and--typical Snape--wouldn't listen to any explanations. And I suppose he was pretty ticked off that I escaped and didn't get thrown to the Dementors." Sirius smiled briefly, with a look of bitter satisfaction. "So to get revenge, he exposed Moony's secret."

"Why would Lupin want to be with him after he did that?" Harry demanded.

"Beats the heck out of me," Sirius said with a shrug. "Remus claims they talked things out and that Snape apologized afterwards." Sirius looked rather dubious. "Personally, I don't understand why Remy took him back, but he's always been soft on Snape, even when we were kids. He's always felt sorry for him, claiming that he's just lonely and misunderstood." Sirius sighed, a bit guiltily. "I knew all along that he didn't approve of the way we treated Snape back in school, even though he never said anything. Branwen says that Remus could sympathize with Snape because they were both lonely and misfits."

Harry was silent for a moment, remembering the memory he had seen in the Pensieve, where his father and Sirius had tormented Snape, much as Harry himself had been bullied by his cousin Dudley and by Draco Malfoy. He hated feeling sorry for Snape, but he was struck by the thought that Snape must not have had an easy time of it at school...and then he remembered that other childhood memory of Snape's he'd seen during their Occlumency lessons. "I saw some of Snape's memories," Harry said slowly. "In his head, I mean, during the Occlumency lessons, not in the Pensieve. Did you ever meet his parents?"

"A few times, when they came to school functions," Sirius said with a frown, "but I didn't really know them. They seemed cold and snooty, like most of the other pureblood families, including my own. Why do you ask?"

"Because I think I saw Snape's father cast a Cruciatus Curse on him," Harry replied.

"What?!"

"Well, I'm not sure, but that's what it looked like," Harry said. "Snape was only five or six years old in the memory. It looked like he had broken some toy and his father was punishing him. He--the father--raised his wand and cast a spell; I couldn't hear what he said, but Snape was rolling on the floor screaming in pain." Harry shuddered, remembering the time Voldemort had cast the Crucio spell on him. "It sure looked like a Cruciatus Curse."

"His own father?" Sirius asked, looking stunned.

"I think so. The man had a nose just like Snape's, but lighter-colored hair. And there was a woman too, I guess his mother? She was really pretty, with black hair and sort of golden-tan skin."

"Yes, that sounds like the Snapes," Sirius said weakly.

"His mum just stood by and watched," Harry said incredulously. "She didn't try to stop his dad from hurting him! She didn't even look angry or scared, just...bored, almost. Like she just didn't care."

Sirius shook his head, looking a little shaken. "The Snapes have always been a nasty lot, but I never knew they were that bad." He paused, thinking for a moment, then said, "Branwen told me once that Snape had a 'difficult childhood' but never explained what she meant by that. I suppose that having your parents cast Unforgivable Curses on you might count as 'difficult'..."

Harry shuddered again. "I really hate Snape, but when I think about that I can't help but feel sorry for him...do you suppose that's why he's turned out like he has?"

"Maybe," Sirius muttered, looking stubborn and mulish. It seemed that he didn't want to feel sorry for Snape anymore than Harry did.

Suddenly Harry remembered one of the other memories he'd seen. "There was another memory...he was about twelve, maybe thirteen...he was lying in the mud, and Lupin came over and offered him a hand up." Was that why he had fallen in love with Lupin? Because Lupin was the first, maybe the only person, to ever treat him kindly? He said as much to Sirius, who just scowled.

"Yeah, I remember that. It was our second year; Gryffindor and Slytherin were playing a practice match in the rain. It was pouring so hard that everyone but Snape and your father came down. Snape fell off his broom--it was his own damn fault, he deliberately jostled James, and James's broom went out of control and knocked Snape off his. He fell in the mud and we were all laughing our heads off, except of course for Moony. Remus has always been softhearted; he went over to help Snape up, and instead of being grateful, Snape pulled him down into the mud, too. Remus just laughed it off, though." Sirius shook his head again. "There's no accounting for taste, but love isn't logical, I guess."

Harry figured he wasn't going to get any further insight from Sirius, and decided to drop the subject. "Listen," he said nervously, "don't tell Snape what I told you, okay? He's mad enough at me as it is."

"Don't worry, I won't say anything," Sirius assured him. "And if Snape gives you any problems, you come see me and I'll set him straight!"

Harry nodded, but remembering how Sirius and Snape had nearly gotten into a duel over the Occlumency lessons, privately resolved to handle any problems on his own.

*** 

To Snape's surprise, not only did the Weasleys arrive that evening, but Dumbledore as well. After the children had excitedly greeted each other and were sent to their rooms to get ready for dinner by Molly, Snape quietly asked the Headmaster if they could have a word in private.

"Of course, Severus," Dumbledore said cheerfully, and they retreated to the drawing room.

Snape stammered, "I...do you..." He paused to take a deep breath, then started over again. "I'm willing to resume Potter's Occlumency lessons...if you still want me to."

"Severus," Dumbledore said, looking surprised and concerned, "are you sure that's what you want?"

Snape scowled. "Of course I don't _want_ to, but he needs the lessons. But...I'll understand if you don't trust me, after that fiasco..."

Dumbledore laid a hand on Snape's shoulder and said gently, "It's not a matter of trust, my boy. And...I owe you an apology, Severus." Snape stared at him, dumbfounded. "I should not have asked it of you in the first place, after all the other burdens I have placed on your shoulders. But I am an old man, and forgot that some wounds are not so easily healed..." Snape flushed, looking down at his feet to evade the old wizard's kindly eyes. "Forgive me, Severus, for forgetting how much you suffered during those years. I never meant to belittle your pain."

Snape stepped away, shrugging off Dumbledore's comforting hand. "It was a long time ago," he mumbled.

"Not so long ago," Dumbledore said, still in that gentle voice, "for the memories are still fresh for you, are they not? When you look at Harry, you see his father...I think that is the real reason you hate him, not because he is a mischievous boy who breaks the rules, although it is certainly true that he has broken a number of the school rules over the years."

"It doesn't matter whether I hate him or not," Snape snarled. "I don't have to like someone in order to teach them!" _A good thing too,_ Snape added silently, _or I wouldn't be able to teach anyone other than Dylan!_

"Are you sure you can handle teaching Harry, Severus?" Dumbledore asked seriously. "Can you overcome your feelings enough to teach him effectively? Answer me truthfully, Severus; there is no shame in saying 'no'. If anyone is to blame here, it is me--"

"Yes," Snape said through gritted teeth. "I can teach him." When Dumbledore looked at him doubtfully, he added sardonically, "Lupin and Branwen have already lectured me extensively on how the lessons are more important than my pride." Then he said quietly, "I promise I won't let my pride get in the way again. Please, Albus...I know I screwed up. I want...I want to set things right." Snape flushed with anger and shame; humility did not come easily to him. _I can't believe I'm begging the Headmaster for a chance to teach Potter,_ he thought to himself sourly.

"It would be a big help," Dumbledore admitted. "I was planning to teach Harry myself, but I don't have enough time to stop by the house on a regular basis--"

"The Dark Lord has already reached him once," Snape said firmly. "I don't think it wise to wait till school starts to continue his lessons. I'll be visiting the house regularly--" Snape flushed as the Headmaster grinned knowingly. "--so I might as well give Potter his lessons as long as I'm here."

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "As long as it's not too much for you, on top of your other duties--you are already teaching Dylan, and of course there is your undercover work..."

"The Dark Lord has not summoned us much recently," Snape replied. "I think he's lying low for now, until he can come up with a better plan. If things change, I will of course alert you."

"Very well," Dumbledore repeated. "I am trusting you, Severus, to let me know if you find you can't handle it. I won't be angry if you decide you cannot continue the lessons, but you must be honest with me."

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said, bowing his head. "I promise I won't let you down this time."

Dumbledore smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "I know how difficult this must be for you, Severus," he said softly, "and I appreciate it. I'm very proud of you, my boy."

Snape looked up, startled, and before he could stop it, felt a warm glow of pleasure at the Headmaster's approval, such as he had not felt since he was twelve years old, when he realized that Potter had supplanted him in the Headmaster's affections. Dumbledore's smile grew wider, and Snape mumbled something unintelligible about needing to get ready for dinner, and hastily fled the room. But that warm glow remained with him as he headed upstairs, and it compensated, just a little, for the unpleasant task that lay ahead of him this summer...

*** 

Harry was chattering with his friends at dinner, enjoying a delicious meal of chicken and noodles that Hermione had helped Professor Blackmore prepare. "When you think about it," Hermione said earnestly, "cooking is almost like Potion brewing. You have to add just the right mixture of ingredients--"

Snape snorted derisively, but he looked less grumpy than he normally did. He had even been carrying on a quiet and civilized conversation with Lupin before being distracted by Hermione's remark.

"What's up with Snape?" Ron whispered to Harry. "Since when is he friendly with Lupin?"

Harry shrugged nervously. He knew the truth, of course, that Snape and Lupin were lovers, but he had been sworn to secrecy. To his relief, Dumbledore spoke before he could answer.

"If I could have your attention for just a minute, I have a couple of announcements to make," the Headmaster said, tapping his water glass with his fork. Everyone set down their forks and looked up attentively. "First of all, it is now official, that Branwen and Remus will be returning to teach at Hogwarts next term!" 

Everyone but Snape applauded; the Potions Master just leaned back in his chair, with his usual sour expression on his face, but Harry noticed the corners of his mouth twitching upwards just a little, as if he were trying to repress a smile. "Remus will of course be resuming his position as Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, and Branwen will be teaching her specialty, Incantations and Summonings, which the school governors have agreed to restore to the curriculum!"

The children looked at each other with eager and excited expressions, while Mrs. Weasley looked a little worried. "Is that really wise, Albus?" she asked nervously.

"I'm not going to teach them to summon demons, Molly," Blackmore said dryly.

Mrs. Weasley flushed, and Mr. Weasley patted her hand reassuringly and said, "Now, now, dear, you know how much Branwen cares about the children...she would never do anything to put them in danger."

"I only want them to be able to defend themselves," Blackmore said quietly. "I will teach them to summon minor, helpful spirits and elementals. I will teach them how to bargain for, and not compel, the service of such creatures. I will teach them nothing that smacks of the Dark Arts."

"I know, Branwen," Mrs. Weasley said, looking a little embarrassed. "I didn't mean to imply that you would. It's just..." She hesitated as she saw the children staring at her, and seemed to change her mind about what she was going to say. "It's just that I'm worried that some of the students might try to, ah, misuse the spells..."

"Almost any spell, however benign, can be misused," Snape pointed out, giving Harry a brief glare. "However, I doubt anyone will try misusing those spells more than once, after Branwen gets through with them." He grinned wickedly at Professor Blackmore, who grinned back.

"Just think, Bane," Blackmore said as she fed the raven a tidbit. "A whole generation of students who have never heard of us, who have never served detention with the demonic Professor Blackmore..."

Mrs. Weasley choked on a mouthful of food; when she recovered, she shouted in a reproachful tone, "BRANWEN!"

Ron went pale. "Remember when they were comparing detention methods at dinner last year?" he hissed. "She's the one who taught Snape everything he knows! I'm not so sure I want to be taking classes from her..."

"Don't you want to learn how to do Summonings spells?" Hermione asked. "I think it sounds fascinating! And as long as you stay out of trouble, you won't be doing any detention."

"It's not that simple sometimes," Ron said defensively.

"You are a prefect, Ron," Hermione said in that infuriating tone she used whenever she was trying to get Ron and Harry to behave responsibly. "You have to set a good example--"

The Headmaster cleared his throat and the children fell silent. "And," he said, "since Professor Snape will be spending the better part of the summer at this house--" Ron looked horrified. "--he will be resuming your Occlumency lessons, Harry." 

Harry looked even more horrified than Ron. "B-but...but..." he stammered.

Sirius jumped to his feet and glared at Snape. "You've got to be joking!" he shouted. "You're going to let Snape teach Harry after what he did the last time? It's all his fault that Harry and the kids nearly got killed!"

"There is plenty of blame to go around, Sirius," Dumbledore said quietly. "We all share responsibility for what happened. You, for refusing to remain safely at home." Sirius flushed with anger and guilt. "Harry, for spying on Professor Snape's thoughts in the Pensieve, and for recklessly setting off on a rescue mission instead of trusting Professor Snape to take care of things." Harry blushed as well. "And most of all, myself, for letting my emotions blind me to Harry's and Severus's needs." Sirius slowly sat back down in his chair. "And yes, Severus was wrong to stop the lessons, but he wishes to make amends for that now." Snape's face turned red, and he scowled down at his plate.

"I still don't like it," Sirius grumbled. "I thought you were going to teach him from now on."

"I intended to," replied Dumbledore. "But I don't have time to stop by regularly during the summer, and Severus does. It's crucial for Harry to learn as much as he can, as quickly as he can, in order to prevent a repetition of the previous incident."

"I won't be fooled by Voldemort's visions again," Harry mumbled.

Snape visibly winced at the mention of Voldemort's name. "It isn't just the visions, Potter," he said sharply, with a hint of condescension in his voice, as if he were pointing out the obvious to a particularly dull-witted student. "We don't want the Dark Lord to be able to pull information out of your head. Imagine the harm he could do if he found out the identities of the Order members and our plans..." Snape went a little pale, not surprisingly, since as a spy, he would be the one in the most danger if Voldemort found out Snape was double-crossing him.

Mrs. Weasley looked a bit confused, since she hadn't known about Harry spying in the Pensieve, but she said, "If Albus and Severus think it's important for Harry to have these lessons, then he should take them, Sirius."

"All right," Sirius said, giving in with ill grace, "but I'm warning you, Snape, if you step out of line--"

"Enough, Sirius!" Lupin snapped impatiently, before Snape could react. "We have all made mistakes in the past, including you! Severus is doing the best he can to make up for the mistakes he made. And don't forget, he did save your life!"

Both Snape and Sirius looked extremely annoyed about being reminded of that fact, and Sirius reluctantly subsided. 

Mr. Weasley said curiously, "How did Severus save you, anyway, Sirius? We never heard the full story." Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione looked eager to hear about it as well.

"It's none of your business!" Snape and Sirius snapped in unison, then stopped, startled, and glared at each other.

Lupin and Blackmore both laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Let us be grateful that he did save Sirius, and just leave it at that," said Blackmore.

*** 

"I'm so proud of you, Severus," Lupin said later when they were alone.

"Oh, shut up, Lupin!" Snape snapped, blushing and looking irritated. "I've already heard all that from Dumbledore!"

"Well, I'm proud of you, nonetheless," Lupin said with a smile, wrapping his arms around Snape and nuzzling his cheek.

Snape's irritation melted away. "You're impossible, Lupin," he grumbled, but his tone was affectionate as he returned the embrace. He buried his face in Lupin's hair, remembering how much he had wanted to see Lupin after reliving some of his schoolboy memories during Dylan's Occlumency lesson. "I love you, Remus," he whispered.

Lupin smiled and said, "I love you, too, Severus," but he sounded a little concerned. "Is everything all right?"

"Why do you ask?" Snape asked defensively, pulling back a little to look at Lupin.

"It's not that I'm not delighted to have you here, Severus," Lupin replied. "But you showed up unexpectedly, you actually said that you were glad to see me, and you said 'I love you' without being prompted..."

"I don't always have to be prompted," Snape said, feeling a little hurt. Then he thought it over, and realized that it was true that he usually--though not always--said the words after Lupin had already said them first, which made him feel guilty. "I know I don't say it often enough, Remus," he said apologetically. "But you know I love you; I've never loved anyone but you--"

"Shh," Lupin said, laying a finger across his lips. "I know you love me; I didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to make you feel guilty." Though he did treasure and savor each time Severus said those words, because he didn't say them very often. "It's just that you seemed...a little upset today." "Needy" was the word Lupin was really thinking of, but he knew he would hurt Severus's feelings if he said that. When Severus showed up needing reassurance, it was because he was troubled by something--usually thoughts of the past, but in the rush of picking up Harry and getting the children settled in, they had not really had time to sit down and talk.

"Dylan's progressing well in his lessons," Snape said. "A little too well--he managed to push past my defenses and stir up some old memories."

"Unpleasant memories?" Lupin asked anxiously.

"Not exactly," said Snape, his mouth twisting in a crooked smile. "Pleasant enough...but bittersweet, in retrospect." 

"Tell me about it," Lupin said.

"I suppose you won't leave me alone until I do," Snape sighed. "It's a long story..."

Lupin smiled, took him by the hand, and led him to the bed. "Sit," he ordered. "Talk to me."

"Pushy little werewolf," Snape complained, but he smiled and obeyed. And with Lupin sitting next to him, pressed up against his side comfortably, still holding his hand, the story about the Valentine's Day prank was a little easier to tell.

"So it _was_ you," Lupin laughed. "I always suspected...well, it wasn't very nice, Severus, but then again, neither were the pranks he played on you..."

"It was because of you that I did it," Snape said softly, and Lupin looked startled. "Oh, of course I hated Potter and wanted to get back at him, but Rosier's pranks almost always led to detention, and I wasn't keen on getting in trouble so soon after my last detention. But then I saw you smile at him--not the apologetic sort of smile you used to give me, but a real smile. You looked at him the way almost everybody else in the damn school looked at him, like he was some kind of hero, and suddenly I was so jealous; I wanted you to look at me that way, and I knew--or at least, I thought--you never would. So before I knew it, I agreed to help Rosier with his prank."

"Oh, Severus," Lupin said sadly. "I didn't--"

"It's all right, Lupin," Snape interrupted. "It's not your fault. The prank was fun, and we even got away with it--but it wasn't completely satisfying, because I still didn't have you. That's why I hated Potter so much--not just because he was an arrogant git, which he was, or because he showed me up in class and on the Quidditch field, which he did--but because you were his friend and not mine."

"Severus--"

"I wanted you so badly that it hurt," whispered Snape. "And that scared the hell out of me, so I tried to convince myself that I hated you, but I couldn't, not really...even when I hated you, I couldn't stop needing you, couldn't stop wanting to be near you..."

Lupin looked very distraught, and his blue eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Severus!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around Snape and holding him tightly. "I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you--"

"It's all right, Lupin...I mean, Remus," Snape said, reminding himself that Lupin preferred to be called by his first name. He stroked Lupin's hair comfortingly. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad. We were just children, we didn't know any better...with the hatred between Slytherin and Gryffindor, it was almost impossible for us to be together. I know you love me now; that's why I came today--I wanted to see you, and hear you say you love me."

"I do love you, Severus, I love you so much!" Lupin said, kissing him fiercely.

"I love you, too, Remus," Snape gasped, when Lupin finally broke off the kiss. "My, the wolf has gotten aggressive recently!"

Lupin grinned at him. "Yes, and you like it; don't deny it, Severus!"

"Yes, I do," Snape admitted with a laugh. "But don't let it go to your head."

Lupin just snuggled against him contentedly and nuzzled his neck. "I'm glad you came by today."

"Me too," Snape said. They held each other in companionable silence for a few moments, then Snape said quietly, "I wasn't just upset today because of you, Remus. Seeing Rosier and Wilkes in my memory stirred up some guilty feelings." Lupin said nothing, but gave him a sympathetic, encouraging look. "They were my friends, or at least the closest thing to friends I ever had...and I couldn't save them."

"That's why you've worked so hard to save Dylan," Lupin murmured. 

"Yes," Snape said, then reluctantly admitted, "but for his own sake as well." Lupin smiled at him tenderly, and Snape scowled and asked, "What are you smirking about, Lupin?"

"You're not as cold-hearted as you like to pretend, Severus Snape," Lupin said.

"Yes, and I blame it all on you," Snape retorted. "You're a bad influence, Lupin!"

Lupin grinned at him proudly rather than contritely, then said in a more serious tone, "Wouldn't it make more sense to bring Dylan here, and teach him and Harry together, rather than running back and forth between here and Wales?"

Snape said, "I don't want either of them to know that I'm teaching the other. I don't really trust Potter to keep a secret--" Lupin sighed, and Snape frowned. "And the less they know, the less they can betray, just in case the Dark Lord does get past their defenses."

"I suppose you're right, Severus," Lupin reluctantly agreed.

"Besides," Snape continued, "I have to work with them one-on-one, anyway. I can't really teach two students at once, because I can only enter the mind of one person at a time."

"Oh well," said Lupin, feeling a little disappointed. "I had just hoped that we could make things a little easier for you. And I thought it might be good for Dylan to spend time with the other children..."

Snape snorted. "A Slytherin among Gryffindors? Weasley and Potter can't stand him; we'd probably have to stop them from hexing each other!"

"I don't think that Harry hates him, exactly," Lupin said, but Snape didn't look convinced. "And aren't Dylan and Hermione friends?"

"Sort of," Snape said, flushing a little as he remembered how he had reassured the girl earlier; he didn't want anyone, even Lupin, to find out about that. "But it's not really safe for them to continue that friendship, particularly with Dylan being in the Death Eaters now."

"Sometimes I hate the idea of Houses," Lupin said, looking both sad and angry. "It kept us apart for so many years, and now it's coming between Hermione and Dylan."

"They're just friends, Lupin," Snape said impatiently. "Or at most, infatuated. It's not love everlasting."

"How do you know?" Lupin retorted, then laughed at Snape's horrified expression. "But even if friendship is all it is, they should still not have to be torn apart by the division between the Houses. Branwen had the right idea, twenty years ago."

"Well, next term you can always try to recreate Branwen's experiment," Snape pointed out, though he didn't look like he thought much of the idea. 

"Perhaps I will," said Lupin thoughtfully.

"Just try to actually teach them something, and not just play matchmaker," Snape added sourly.

Lupin smiled at him flirtatiously, suddenly looking like a fifteen-year old boy again, and said slyly, "It worked out well enough for us, didn't it?"

"Well enough," Snape agreed huskily. "In the end." They kissed, and it was as sweet as their first kiss, over twenty years ago--no, even sweeter, because after the long years of separation, Snape cherished his lover all the more. "Am I first in your heart, Remus?" Snape whispered, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it anyway.

"Always, Severus," Lupin whispered back tenderly. "You are always first in my heart."

Snape kissed Lupin urgently, and lay back on the bed, pulling Lupin down beside him. Then it suddenly occurred to him that there was something he had never said, and even though he was sure that it was obvious to Lupin, he thought that he should say it aloud at least once. "And you are first in mine, Remus. You always have been, ever since the first time you smiled at me..."

*** 

Snape did not begin the lessons immediately; first he had to go to Hogwarts to borrow the Headmaster's Pensieve. He had been doing without it to teach Dylan--it was too much trouble to lug the stone basin back and forth for each lesson--but there was no way that Snape was going to allow Potter any more access to his memories than was absolutely necessary. It was bad enough that boy had seen as much as he had...

Snape commandeered the drawing room for their Occlumency lessons, but the first lesson did not go very well: Potter was too nervous and Snape too tense for either of them to accomplish much. Potter was able to hold off Snape's attack for a little while, but then his defenses broke, and Snape was subjected to a flood of unwanted memories, mainly scenes of the boy being tormented by his Muggle relatives, and finally, Black being struck by Bellatrix Lestrange's near-lethal spell. That was unnerving enough, but Snape shuddered with horror when he saw that Branwen had nearly fallen through the Veil with Black before pulling him to safety--neither Lupin nor Branwen had told him how close a call it had been. Snape didn't think that Potter fully understood the significance of the veiled arch, but Snape knew that anyone who went through the Veil never came back; even though Branwen had not been wounded, if she had fallen through the Veil, she would have died along with Black. 

After that, Snape called off the lesson early. Potter stared at him apprehensively, obviously expecting to be reprimanded, but Snape just said curtly, "Keep practicing. We'll try again in a couple of days; I'll expect you to do better next time."

"Y-yes, sir," Potter said, staring at him in shock.

Snape scowled; he didn't want the brats to think he was going soft. "Get out of here, Potter," he growled, and the boy fled. Snape sighed; it was going to be a long summer...

 

Dylan's lesson went better, except that Snape had to relay Granger's message. "Ah, Mr. Rosier," Snape said after the lesson was over, "I have a message for you from Miss Granger."

"From Hermione?" Dylan asked, startled.

"Yes," Snape said gruffly. "She says that she is no longer angry with you."

"Wh--what?" the boy stammered. "Why?"

"I suppose because she understands why you broke off the relationship." Snape hastily turned to leave, saying, "I'll see you next week, Rosier."

"Professor, wait!" cried Dylan. "Did you tell her why I...?"

Snape scowled. "I didn't tell her that you are now a Death Eater, if that's what you're asking. I merely dropped a few hints, and she was perceptive enough to pick up on the fact that it's dangerous for you two to be associating with each other right now, even though she doesn't know exactly why."

Dylan looked grateful, but puzzled. "When did you see Hermione? Was this before school let out? Or--"

"It's none of your business, Rosier," Snape snapped. "I told you before, there are some things you are better off not knowing. I said I would pass on the message, and I have. Let's just leave it at that."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said, reluctantly but obediently, and Snape relaxed a little The boy was so much better behaved than Potter... "Thank you very much, sir. It means a lot to me, to know that Hermione doesn't hate me." Dylan hesitated, then said, "I don't suppose you could tell her that I--"

"I'm not a bloody messenger owl!" Snape shouted, and Dylan went pale.

"Sorry, sir," the boy mumbled.

"Nothing else has changed," Snape said angrily. _Stupid, moony, hormonal teenagers!_ he fumed. "It would be dangerous to resume your friendship, even in secret. Don't send her any letters; the mail system is not safe from prying eyes. Do you understand me, Mr. Rosier?"

"Yes, sir," Dylan said in a resigned tone. "I understand. Still, like I said, it does mean a lot to me, just to know that she doesn't hate me. So thank you, Professor. I really do appreciate you bringing me the message."

Snape made a growling noise deep in his throat, and left without another word. _Damn werewolf,_ he grumbled to himself. _It's all his fault I'm going soft!_

*** 

Dylan scratched his head, not quite sure what had just happened. Had Professor Snape, of all people, really brought him a message from Hermione? But Snape hated Hermione--hated all Gryffindors in general, and Potter's friends in particular. So why would he be talking to Hermione during the summer? She had to have given Snape the message after school let out; she had still been treating Dylan coldly right through the last day of school, and surely if she'd had a message for him then, she would have spoken to him personally, or at least sent it through someone else. Dylan was pretty sure that Snape was the last person Hermione would approach to carry a personal message.

Although Snape--as well as Dylan's own family--had told him very little ("for your own safety"), Dylan wasn't stupid. He knew that Snape and Dumbledore must be secretly working against the Dark Lord, and since they had come to talk to his family, Uncle Math and Aunt Goewin must be involved somehow as well. That made sense; a sort of underground group to counteract the Death Eaters. It would have to be secret, because until recently, the Ministry had refused to acknowledge the return of the Dark Lord, and also because the Dark Lord had eyes and ears everywhere--including the Ministry of Magic. But surely Hermione, however talented a witch she was, was too young to be involved with this secret organization. He might have suspected that her parents were involved, if she had not been Muggle-born... 

Regardless of how or why Snape had met Hermione during the summer--for all Dylan knew, it was just a chance encounter--why on earth would he agree to carry a personal message? He was the one who had ordered Dylan to break off his friendship with Hermione, after all. Could it be he felt guilty about that? Dylan shook his head; he had a hard time picturing Snape caring whether a couple of teenage students had their feelings hurt or not. Then again, Snape had held Dylan while he wept, that night he had been forced to join the Death Eaters... Dylan sighed and gave up trying to figure Snape out; ironically, it seemed like the more time he spent with the Potions Master, the less he understood him...

*** 

In contrast to Dylan's steady progress, Potter was erratic. Sometimes he was utterly incompetent, while at other times Snape was hard-pressed to fend off his counterattacks. Snape had noticed that the boy's emotional state affected his performance, and right now, since he was happy to be living with his friends and godfather, he was doing better than he had at Hogwarts. But this was dangerous, because it left him open to manipulation--the Dark Lord was a master at playing on people's hidden weaknesses and desires.

"You must learn to control your emotions, Potter," Snape said sharply, then deliberately baited the boy. "Your father was a sentimental fool, and look what happened to him."

"Don't talk about my dad that way!" Potter yelled, predictably. Snape attacked without warning, and a few moments later, the boy was on his hands and knees on the floor and Snape found himself with another headful of unpleasant memories: more abuse by Potter's Muggle relatives, Potter's Ministry hearing last summer, and--the last memory made Snape scowl furiously--James Potter as a boy, clearly an image he had gotten from the Pensieve.

"That wasn't fair," Potter muttered.

"Oh?" Snape said coldly. "Do you suppose that the Dark Lord will give you fair warning before he attacks? Do you think that he won't try to make you lose your temper, in order to weaken your defenses?"

A slowly dawning look of comprehension spread across Potter's face. "You were trying to make me mad on purpose?"

Snape didn't bother to answer, since the answer should be obvious, even to a dolt like Potter. "As I said, Mr. Potter, you must learn to control your emotions."

"I'm trying," he protested. "But it's not easy!"

"If Occlumency was supposed to be easy, then I wouldn't be wasting my spare time on these lessons," Snape snarled. The boy's face went red and he glared at Snape. "Control, Potter," Snape reminded him coolly.

Potter took several deep breaths and managed to calm himself. "I'm ready, sir," he said, a look of determination on his face.

"We'll see if you're ready or not," Snape said with an air of lazy indifference. "Put away your wand."  "What?" Potter asked, startled.

"You have proven that you can defend yourself with a wand--when you don't let your emotions overwhelm you." He watched Potter's face carefully; the boy's temper flared at that last remark, but when he saw Snape watching him, he managed to get himself under control. "So now we shall see how you do without a wand. A mage well-versed in Occlumency should be able ward off attacks with his mind alone." The boy reluctantly put away his wand and visibly braced himself. "One--two--three--Legilimens!"

Potter actually held off the attack fairly well, but without being able to counterattack with a spell, his defenses eventually crumbled. Snape saw: Potter writing lines under Umbridge's watchful eye, the words he wrote cutting themselves into the back of his hand...James and Lily Potter smiling from inside the Mirror of Erised... Snape hastily broke off the spell. "Not bad for a first attempt," he conceded grudgingly. "But try to push me out of your mind next time." Potter looked a little confused and frustrated, but Snape really didn't know how to explain it any better than that. "Once more--one...two...three...Legilimens!"

Potter was getting better at defending; his mental wall was solid, holding up against Snape's initial assault. He continued the attack, and felt Potter's defenses start to give, then suddenly, Potter lashed out with a mental "shove" with far more strength than a beginner should have been able to muster. He stumbled backwards, tripping over the coffee table and falling back against the couch...

*** 

Harry felt Snape start to break through his defenses, and gritted his teeth. He was not going to fail again, was _not_ going to give Snape more excuses to taunt him with those sneering, sarcastic remarks...he wondered if Snape was deliberately being unhelpful, with those vague instructions to "push me out of your mind," with no explanation of how to go about it.

 _All right, if he says to push, then I'll push!_ Harry thought, and imagined himself shoving Snape away from him as hard as he could. Unconsciously, he thrust his hands forward at the same time he pushed with his mind, and suddenly he was flooded with Snape's memories: Professor Lupin sitting at the head table on the first day of Harry's third school year, looking tired and ill, his gray-streaked hair falling across his face...a teenaged Lucius Malfoy speaking persuasively to a young Snape and a boy who looked much like Dylan Rosier, except that his hair was shorter and curlier...a young Lupin and Snape throwing snowballs at each other...adult Snape scratching a large brown wolf behind its ears as it wagged its tail happily...a young Lupin fainting as Snape rushed forward to catch him...

Snape screamed, and Harry caught sight of one last, blurred memory--a crowd of people clad in black robes and masks--before the images abruptly vanished and Snape was gone from his mind. So abruptly, in fact, that Harry staggered back a step, lost his balance, and landed hard on his backside. He nervously looked up, expecting to see Snape as furious as he had been the night Harry had looked into the Pensieve. But Snape was not even looking at him; he was lying back against the couch clutching his left forearm, and Harry realized that the scream had been one of pain, not anger--or at least, not solely anger.

"Professor?" Harry asked hesitantly. "Are you all right?"

"Do I look all right, you idiot boy?" Snape snarled.

Harry scrambled to his feet and headed for the door. "Should I get Professor Lupin?"

"NO!" Snape shouted, and Harry froze in place. "I'm all right," he said through gritted teeth as he let go of his arm. "But our lesson is over for today. Get out of here, Potter."

"Are...are you being summoned?" Harry asked. "By Vol--by the Dark Lord?" He knew he was pushing his luck, but he was frightened, and despite the fact that he hated Snape, a little worried about his teacher, because Harry had never heard him scream like that before.

"I have already told you, such things are not your concern, Potter!" Snape yelled. "Get out of here! Now!"

Harry fled the room, but despite what Snape had told him, he went to look for Professor Lupin. Professor Blackmore had left the house on an errand, and Harry didn't think that he should bring his concerns about Snape to Sirius, since he was still irritated about the Occlumency lessons. He ran upstairs and knocked on Lupin's door; to his relief, Lupin called out, "Come in." 

Lupin was sitting at his desk, several books spread out in front of him, as he scribbled something on a roll of parchment. He looked up, smiled, and said, "Hello, Harry." He saw Harry's curious look and added, "I was just working on my lesson plans, but they can wait. What can I do for you?"

"It's Professor Snape," Harry said uneasily. "He was giving me my lesson, and all of a sudden he screamed and grabbed his arm--like this." Harry clutched his forearm in the same place Snape had. "He said he was all right, but..."

Lupin jumped up and ran out of the room. Harry followed behind, saying nervously, "He'll probably be mad that I told you--"

"I'll deal with Severus," Lupin said in a curt voice that was very unlike him; he looked tense and worried. They reached the drawing room, and Lupin walked in without knocking. "Severus?" Lupin called, but the room was empty.

"Was he summoned by Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"Probably," Lupin replied, looking more concerned than ever. "He must have Apparated over right after you left." He muttered under his breath, "Damn it, Severus, you could have said something, or at least left me a message." Lupin gave Harry a strained smile and said, "Don't worry, he'll be all right," sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than he was Harry.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked, poking his head through the open doorway.

"Severus is gone," Lupin said, looking a little pale. "Summoned. Voldemort must be calling a meeting."

"Well, that's good, right?" Sirius said in a hearty voice that sounded as false as Lupin's attempt at nonchalance. "I mean, he might be able to get some important information..."

"How can you be so casual about it?" Lupin shouted, and Harry jumped a little; Lupin almost never lost his temper, no matter how much he was provoked. "Don't you care that Severus is risking his life every time he answers one of these summons? Do you hate him so much that you don't care if he dies, as long as he brings back your precious information?!"

"Hey, take it easy, Moony!" Sirius said, looking a little hurt. "I don't like Snape, but I don't want him to die, either. You looked worried, so I was just trying to be reassuring. And Snape's tough; he can take care of himself."

"He's not as tough as you think, Sirius," Lupin said softly. "You don't know what it costs him, to keep up this masquerade." 

"I'm sorry, Moony," Sirius said, looking uncomfortable. "I just--"

"No, I'm sorry, Sirius," Lupin interrupted. "I know you didn't mean it that way; I'm just on edge. Every time Severus answers Voldemort's call, I'm so scared that it will be a trap, that Voldemort will have discovered Severus is a traitor--" He broke off, as if suddenly remembering that Harry was still in the room. "I'm sorry, Harry," he whispered, trying to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "I worry too much; I'm sure Severus will be fine."

"Yes, he will," Sirius said gently, putting an arm around Lupin. "Snape is a sly one, and he's got his Occlumency to protect him. He won't let old Voldie get the drop on him."

Lupin managed a small laugh. "I'd like to see you call the Dark Lord 'Old Voldie' to his face!"

"Next time I see him, I will," Sirius said with a grin. "And don't worry about Snape, I'm sure he'll be back in time for supper!"

Lupin seemed comforted a little by Sirius's attempts to reassure him, even though he was clearly still worried about Snape, and Harry felt proud of his godfather for setting aside his dislike of Snape in order to help his friend. Perhaps Sirius had finally taken Professor Blackmore's lecture (and stinging slap) to heart, Harry thought, recalling the way she had chewed out both Snape and Sirius for the way their "stupid, petty quarrels" were hurting Lupin, the day Snape had saved Sirius's life.

Lupin left the room, and Sirius followed, having no reason to think that Harry might be worried about Snape as well. Harry lingered behind in the drawing room, glad enough to be left alone; he was still confused and disturbed by the memories he had seen. Nearly all the memories had centered around Lupin, showing a side to Snape that Harry had never seen before, and found disconcerting. He could never in his wildest dreams have pictured Snape laughing and playing in the snow as a boy, or petting what was clearly Lupin in his wolf form. And there was also the memory of young Snape catching Lupin as he collapsed--Snape had looked frightened and concerned, much as he had during that scene in the Pensieve when he had found Lupin in the Shrieking Shack. Harry had asked Sirius what Lupin saw in Snape, and now he was beginning to understand, just a little, what that might be... But Harry had hated Snape for so long, that he was finding it hard to let go of that hatred; he didn't want to like Snape, or even feel sorry for him. He sighed, finding it easier now to sympathize with his godfather's persistent refusal to let of of his long-held enmity for Snape.

Almost as disturbing were those other two memories that did not feature Lupin: the blurred scene of the Death Eaters, and a glimpse of what was probably Dylan Rosier's father. The Rosier-in-the-past had looked like a normal boy, not like someone who would later turn out to be a Death Eater. And what had the young Lucius Malfoy been talking to them about? Had he been trying to persuade Snape and Rosier to join the Death Eaters...?

Professor Blackmore appeared just before dinner, carrying a stack of books--apparently her errand had been to gather some textbooks for the coming school year--and a large box of pastries for dessert. Snape had still not returned, and after being told what had happened, she tried to reassure Lupin--sort of.

"I won't say 'everything's going to be all right' when none of us can guarantee that," Blackmore said quietly. "But Severus knows the risks. He is one of the most talented mages I know, and is as well-prepared for trouble as anyone can be, under the circumstances."

"What if that's not enough?" Lupin protested.

"We are all putting our lives at risk, Remus," Blackmore pointed out. "You could have been killed when we went to rescue Harry and the others; do you think it was easy for Severus to stay behind at Hogwarts and wait for us?"

"No," mumbled Lupin. "But I still hate this."

"Severus told me that Voldemort may not completely trust him, but that Voldemort won't kill him as long as he thinks Severus may be of some use to him. And I think he's right; as long as Voldemort isn't able to place another agent in Hogwarts, I think Severus will be safe. And not to be vain, but I think Voldemort will especially want a spy in the school now that I have returned."

"I suppose you're right, Branwen," Lupin said reluctantly.

"Besides, Voldemort hunts down traitors ruthlessly. I think remaining with the Death Eaters is probably the lesser of two evils. If Severus openly broke with the Death Eaters, he would probably be killed if he went anywhere other than the school or this house. And even the school might not be completely safe--he is the Head of Slytherin, and some of his students are the children of Death Eaters..."

"You think Voldemort might use a child as an assassin?" Lupin asked, horrified. Harry shuddered; he could easily picture Draco Malfoy in such a role--the Slytherin boy had gloated over Cedric's death after all. But still, how could a student, even one as nasty as Draco, possibly be a match for an experienced wizard like Snape?

"Only as a desperate measure, but if there were no other choice, I would put nothing past him," Blackmore replied.

"Branwen, you're supposed to be cheering Moony up, not making him feel worse!" Sirius scolded.

"Sorry," she said with an apologetic smile. "Let's go eat dinner, and hope Severus will turn up in time for dessert." She held up the cardboard box enticingly. "It would take more than a pack of Death Eaters to stand between Severus and a box of sweets!"

Lupin laughed weakly, but only picked at his dinner that night, and everyone else was subdued as well.

*** 

Stunned by the unexpected strength of Potter's attack, for a moment Snape was helplessly swept away in the tide of memories...damn it, he hadn't removed enough of them! But there was a limit to how much the Pensieve could hold, and a limit to how many thoughts a person could safely remove from his head. Snape had been with Lupin through numerous transformations, and it was impossible to remove every memory of himself scratching the wolf behind the ears. It was also impossible to remove all his childhood memories of Lupin, because he had thought about Lupin obsessively for almost every waking moment since the end of their second year. So when he felt the Mark burning on his arm, at first he thought it was another memory, thought he was a young Death Eater being branded for the first time, and he screamed...

Then he realized that the pain was real, and in any case, his memory of the branding was in the Pensieve. He must have looked bad, because Potter actually seemed worried as he asked, "Professor? Are you all right?"

"Do I look all right, you idiot boy?" Snape said sarcastically.

"Should I get Professor Lupin?"

"NO!" Snape shouted; he didn't want Lupin worrying about him. "I'm all right," he said through gritted teeth, forcing himself to let go of his arm despite the pain. "But our lesson is over for today. Get out of here, Potter."

"Are...are you being summoned?" Harry asked. "By Vol--by the Dark Lord?"

"I have already told you, such things are not your concern, Potter!" Snape yelled; the stupid boy did not know when to leave well enough alone. That sense of curiosity would get him killed one day, if he wasn't careful. "Get out of here! Now!"

The boy fled, and Snape took a deep breath to try and calm himself; it would be dangerous to face Voldemort in an agitated state. This was probably a routine summoning; he had sent the Dark Lord a message regarding Dumbledore's reinstatement of Lupin and Branwen at Hogwarts. In order to keep his status as a double agent, he had to feed the Death Eaters enough information to make Voldemort think he was worth keeping alive, and so Dumbledore had permitted Snape to feed the news to Voldemort before it was made public. Probably the Dark Lord wanted to discuss the information he had received. At least, he hoped that was all it was...

 

"Master," he said, bowing low to Voldemort before taking his place among the other Death Eaters who were also arriving. There were several gaps in the circle they formed.

"Severus," Voldemort said coolly. That was a bad sign, but then the Dark Lord had been in a foul mood ever since the botched attempt to steal the prophecy. When everyone was assembled, Voldemort shared the information Snape had sent him about Lupin and Blackmore. There were a few murmurs of surprise or distaste, but no one was eager to offer unsolicited comments, particularly when the Dark Lord was in a bad mood. "I am not surprised to learn that Dumbledore is reinstating his pet werewolf," Voldemort said, "but Branwen Blackmore...it was quite a shock to see her alive and well at the Ministry!" He sounded annoyed, but also intrigued. "Have you learned where she has been these past many years?"

"She and the Headmaster gave me only very vague explanations," Snape lied. "They said she was in hiding, for her own safety."

Voldemort looked pleased for a moment, then frowned. "She was a bold wench; not the sort to cower in terror for fourteen years."

"Clearly there was more to it than that, my Lord," Snape agreed respectfully. "I have seen her face-to-face, and she looks no older than she did when she was a teacher at Hogwarts. I don't think it's a glamor, and she was never really the vain type anyway. She was badly wounded in the battle with our fallen comrades, and she says the 'ally' she summoned took her back to his own realm for healing."

"What sort of ally?" Voldemort asked sharply.

"She refused to be more specific, my Lord," Snape answered. "But she was skilled at summoning elementals and their like. Which would account for her youthful appearance; time flows at a different rate in the spirit realm."

"I don't think it was an elemental that tore my three Death Eaters into pieces. Literally." Voldemort's eyes glowed red with anger.

Snape bowed low again, hoping a show of humility would stave off the Dark Lord's anger. "The Blackmores have always been rumored to dabble in the Dark Arts," he said. "She could have summoned some sort of Dark creature, possibly even a demon. But I don't know how she could possibly have survived fourteen years in the Demon Realm with both her life and sanity intact. Or how she managed to escape, if that's where she was."

"You don't know much, do you, Snape?" a nearby Death Eater said in a taunting voice just barely above a whisper. It was Wormtail, alias Peter Pettigrew; it seemed that his childhood animosity towards Snape remained even though they were now supposedly serving the same master.

Voldemort's hearing, however, was excellent. "When I want your opinion, Wormtail," he said, "I will ask for it. Crucio!" But the Dark Lord seemed only slightly annoyed, breaking off the spell after only a couple of minutes, and Wormtail's screams died down into pathetic whimpers. "Oh, stop blubbering, you little coward," Voldemort said, looking down at him in disgust. "Before I really give you something to cry about!" Wormtail immediately fell silent. "However, he does have a point, Severus," Voldemort continued. "You have brought me only one piece of real information; the rest is pure speculation."

Snape sank to his knees and bowed his head. "I am sorry, Master. I will do better in the future." But he knew apologies and excuses meant little to the Dark Lord, and braced himself for a Cruciatus Curse.

"I am sure you will, Severus," Voldemort said with a merciless smile. "But let me give you a little added incentive."

Voldemort flicked his wand, and Snape cried out in both pain and surprise. It was not a Cruciatus Curse, but a much nastier variation of the Stinging Hex Potter had cast on him during his first Occlumency lesson; it seemed the Dark Lord was feeling creative. It was almost--though not quite--as painful as the Crucio spell. He fell forward, his palms hitting the ground to prevent himself falling completely prone, and saw red, blistering welts covering the backs of his hands. He didn't need to check beneath his robes to know that the burning, stinging welts covered most of his body. 

"Get up, Severus," Voldemort said, and Snape slowly rose, wincing as his clothes chafed against the welts as he got to his feet. Voldemort smiled, seeming to be in a much better mood now that he had vented his ire upon Wormtail and Snape. "It's a pity that Blackmore joined the wrong side," he said regretfully. "She could have been useful to us." None of the assembled Death Eaters pointed out to their master that killing Blackmore's parents might have turned her against him, since none of them had a death wish. But, as if he had heard, Voldemort added, "It's too bad I had to kill Meredith Blackmore. I don't know how such a softhearted fool was ever accepted into Slytherin."

Across the circle, a pair of gray eyes flickered in surprise. Gwydion Donner had not known that Voldemort was responsible for the late Lord Blackmore's death, but he had only recently joined the ranks of the Death Eaters. But then again, Snape had not known either--at least, not for sure--until Branwen had told him. 

"Watch her carefully, Severus," Voldemort warned him. "Of the two, Blackmore is the most dangerous; she killed many of our brethren. If you can find a way to discredit her..."

"The school governors were reluctant to allow Dumbledore to re-hire her. At least half of them think she practices the Dark Arts; I am sure I can play upon their fears...and for the moment, at least while she is at Hogwarts, we can keep an eye on her..."

Voldemort frowned thoughtfully. "That is true. She is less dangerous as a schoolteacher than an Auror, or even worse, a rogue mage running loose on her own. A good point, Severus," he said approvingly, and Snape bowed low to show his gratitude. "We will let Professor Blackmore remain at Hogwarts for now, but do what you can to spread those rumors about her...the less credibility she has with those in authority, the better. And I want you to watch her every move, Severus, and keep me informed."

"Yes, my Lord."

"As for the werewolf..." Voldemort looked less concerned, but a little puzzled. "I wonder why Dumbledore has been so adamant on bringing him back. He called in many favors to have the anti-werewolf legislation set aside in Lupin's case."

Snape forced himself to remain calm and show no fear. "I think partly because he wants to use Lupin as an example, to teach the students about prejudice and tolerance."

"Dumbledore has always been an idealistic fool," Voldemort said contemptuously. "But you said 'partly'...?

"The other part is sheer sentiment, I believe, my Lord. He has always been fond of Lupin, since he was one of Potter's friends, and I think he feels sorry for him. Lupin has...fallen on hard times in recent years."

"What has the werewolf been up to since you got him dismissed?" Voldemort asked curiously.

"Mainly living off the charity of friends, it seems," Snape said indifferently. "And he managed to get the odd translation job here and there." He sneered, "Menial work; nothing a Muggle couldn't do."

Voldemort smirked. "Dumbledore is soft and weak, and that will be his undoing one day. Very well, Severus. Keep an eye on our two new teachers. You have made some insightful observations, and I am mildly pleased, but I expect you to bring more hard information next time."

"Yes, Master," Snape said humbly.

"Does anyone else have news to report?" Voldemort asked, his eyes sliding expectantly over to Gwydion Donner.

"Yes, my Lord," Donner said a little sullenly. "I have obtained a position in the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as you requested. My specialty is magical research, so rather than doing the work of an Auror or guard, my job will be to aid in developing spells to take the place of the Dementors--that is, to keep the occupants of Azkaban safely imprisoned."

"Excellent!" Voldemort exclaimed. "You will be in a perfect position to help free your comrades!"

"Er...but my Lord," Donner in a nervous but carefully respectful tone, "won't it look suspicious, if the prisoners escape, right after I begin working on the security arrangements for Azkaban?" Voldemort began to look annoyed again, and Donner hastened to add, "I mean, if I lose my position, you will lose an ear inside the Ministry."

Voldemort seemed mollified. "We can let a suitable interval of time pass," Voldemort conceded, "so that it does not look too suspicious. It won't hurt to let Lucius and the others cool their heels a bit, since they were careless enough to get captured in the first place. And you are a clever boy, Gwydion--I am sure you can find a way to shift the blame to someone else."

"Yes, my Lord," Donner said, a spark of malicious pleasure flaring in his gray eyes.

"You have earned your reward, Gwydion," Voldemort said, beckoning to Wormtail, who handed Donner a wooden chest. Snape could hear the sound of bottles clinking against each other as Donner took the chest, and knew that it must contain the Mind Restoration Potion he had brewed. "It looks as though your brother is in need of it," Voldemort added with a nasty little smile. 

Snape looked over at the Death Eater standing next to Gwydion. A pair of gray eyes nearly identical to Gwydion's stared back at him with a dull, uncomprehending look. Voldemort beckoned again, and Wormtail retrieved a smaller chest and handed it to Snape. "You will continue to brew the potion," Voldemort ordered.

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said obediently, although the process was a difficult and time-consuming chore that would make his Order duties--including the Occlumency lessons--more difficult. But one did not turn down the Dark Lord and expect to live. Besides, as long as Voldemort needed the potion, Snape's chances of survival remained good, because none of his fellow Death Eaters were capable of making it.

Voldemort asked if anyone else had information to report and no one did. The Dark Lord berated them for being a pack of useless fools and dispensed a few more curses. Snape was relieved not to be included in the "useless" category, and judging by the look in his eyes, so was Gwydion Donner. Bellatrix Lestrange, who had once been the most slavishly devoted of the Dark Lord's followers, was one of those who was punished, and as she cringed and cowered on the ground, Snape saw fear and just a touch of resentment in her dark, heavily-lidded eyes.

Finally, Voldemort dismissed them, to Snape's relief, because the welts were still aching and smarting--the initial pain might not have been as bad as a Cruciatus Curse, but it lingered longer. He Apparated, returning home--well, he supposed he couldn't really call the Grimmauld Place house "home" since it belonged to Black, but the definition of "home" to Snape had become wherever Lupin was...

*** 

Snape deposited the chest in his room, and went looking for Lupin. The pain must have affected him more than he thought, because he realized he had forgotten about the welts covering his hands and face when he stumbled into the dining room. But he was quickly reminded when everyone stared at him in horror.

"Severus!" Lupin exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Are you all right?"

Snape saw the children staring at him openmouthed, and said irritably, "I'm fine, Lupin. It's a minor hex, nothing more." Branwen had also jumped up, and was drawing up a chair for him, which he slowly lowered himself into, wincing with pain.

"It looks like more than a minor hex, Severus," Lupin said in concern. "I--we--were so worried about you--" He reached out with one hand to gently touch Snape's cheek, being careful to avoid the welts.

Snape saw the children's eyes bug out with shock--all save Potter--and without thinking, he slapped Lupin's hand away. Lupin's blue eyes filled with hurt, and then anger, and he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room without another word.

Snape suddenly went cold with fear, and completely forgot about his pain. He jumped up and ran after his lover, shouting, "Lupin! Lupin, wait!" He caught up with Lupin in the hallway and grabbed his arm, forcing him to come to a halt.

Lupin jerked his arm out of Snape's grasp, saying in a bitter voice, "Aren't you afraid that someone might see you touch me, Severus?" And indeed, the children, as well as Branwen, Black, and the elder Weasleys, were watching from the dining room doorway.

Snape flinched; certainly no one was more entitled to be bitter than Lupin, after all the hardships he had endured, but Snape had never heard him use that tone of voice before. "Come on, Lupin!" he protested in a hushed tone. "You know I didn't mean it!" Lupin just stared back at him, with that hurt and angry look still in his eyes. "You never used to mind, when I fought with you at the dinner table at Hogwarts--"

"It's one thing when it's a game we're both playing," Lupin said angrily, "and another entirely when you push me away, in the safety of our home, when I'm concerned about you!" 

Snape flushed with guilt, but argued, "You know I'm just trying to protect you--"

"I don't see any Death Eaters around here, do you, Severus?" Lupin shouted.

"Just one," muttered Black.

Snape shouted, "Shut up, Black!" at the exact same moment that Lupin shouted, "Shut up, Sirius!" Then they glared at each other.

"If word leaks out because the children gossip about us--" Snape began, but Lupin cut him off.

"They've known for over a year that you're a member of the Order of the Phoenix," Lupin retorted, "and have not betrayed that secret. Why should this be any different? They've all been victimized by Voldemort, they know what's at stake!"

"What do you want from me, Lupin?" Snape asked in frustration.

Lupin gave him a sad and bitter smile. "Something you aren't ready to give, apparently," he said softly.

Snape felt another surge of fear and guilt. "Lupin--"

Lupin took a deep breath, then said, "I'm too upset to talk about this right now, Severus." He turned away from Snape and continued down the hall.

Snape was consumed with fear; he had never seen his lover lose his temper like this before. He forgot Lupin's promise that he would always love Snape and never leave him. He forgot Lupin's promise that Snape would always be first in his heart. All he knew was that he was terrified that Lupin was walking away for good this time. "REMUS!" he shouted.

Lupin stopped in his tracks, and turned to stare at Snape, apparently in shock at hearing Snape use his first name in front of witnesses. Snape heard Weasley say, "'Remus'?" in an incredulous tone, but he ignored it. His next move was one of sheer desperation, and only his fear of losing Lupin could have made him do it: he ran forward, grabbed Lupin, and kissed him hard on the mouth. He saw Lupin's blue eyes fly wide open, then slowly close as he returned the kiss. 

Snape knew that he would probably feel mortified later, but right now, all he felt was blissful relief. He pulled Lupin close and held him tightly, and felt Lupin return the embrace, one arm wrapping around Snape's neck, the other firmly twining itself in his hair and pulling his face down to be more thoroughly kissed. Snape heard someone scream, and would have laughed, if his mouth had not been otherwise occupied, because the very high-pitched shriek came not from Miss Granger or Miss Weasley, but from Miss Weasley's brother. He also heard Black mutter, "Get a room, you two," and heard Branwen shush him, but he didn't care, because all that mattered to him right now was Lupin.

Finally Snape broke off the kiss, and Lupin stared at him, his eyes widening again. "Severus Snape," he said breathlessly, "you never cease to amaze me."

"Happy now?" Snape asked, trying for a sarcastic tone, but it came out more relieved.

Lupin smiled. "Very happy, Severus," he said, leaning into Snape's embrace and contentedly resting his head on Snape's shoulder.

"Are you sure, Lupin?" Snape persisted. "There isn't anyone else you'd like to inform? Perhaps you'd like to send out announcements to the Hogwarts' staff?"

"Don't push your luck, Severus," Lupin warned; his voice was stern but there was a glimmer of amusement in his blue eyes.

Despite that amused look, Snape felt ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry, Remus," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I just wasn't thinking..."

"I'm sorry, too, Severus," Lupin said, the amusement leaving his eyes, "for losing my temper."

"Merlin's Beard, Lupin!" Snape exclaimed in disbelief. "You're entitled to lose your temper once in awhile!" He flushed again. "Especially after everything I've done to you," he added quietly. "I'm the one who should be apologizing, not you."

"Then let us forgive each other," Lupin said, and the lovers tenderly embraced, forgetting that they had an audience until they heard Ron Weasley squeal, "Wh...wh...what's going on here?!"

Snape looked up, blushing, and scowled at the children. Potter looked almost as embarrassed as Snape felt, Granger and Ginny Weasley were staring at him in openmouthed shock, and Ron Weasley looked horrified as well as shocked. "If you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I swear I will kill you!" he snarled.

"Severus!" Molly Weasley cried out reproachfully.

"I will impress upon the children the importance of keeping your relationship secret," Branwen said calmly. "Why don't you go upstairs and let Remus tend your wounds?"

"But I have news," Snape protested weakly, then seeing the look of eager interest in Potter's eyes, added sharply, "for Order members only."

"Can it keep till morning?" Branwen asked. "Is anyone in imminent danger?"

Snape thought it over for a moment; the news about Gwydion Donner's position in the Ministry of Magic was important, but there was no immediate danger, since the planned break-in at Azkaban was being postponed. "It can wait," he said, "but not for long. We should convene a meeting tomorrow; I have very important news to relay."

"Very well," Branwen said. "I will send out the messages. Now go upstairs and get some rest." That last sentence was said in her best no-nonsense professorial tone, and Snape smiled.

"Yes, Professor Blackmore," he said obediently, and followed Lupin to their rooms.

*** 

Lupin retrieved a jar of healing salve from Snape's stores. "Take off your clothes," he ordered.

Despite the pain, Snape grinned. "That eager, are you, Lupin? Is it near the full moon?"

"Very funny, Severus," Lupin said, then grinned, a little wickedly. "But if you'd prefer to have Molly or Branwen tend to your wounds..."

"No!" Snape said, and hastily undressed. He sighed and relaxed as Lupin applied the salve to his skin; the pain began to recede, and Lupin's touch was even more soothing than the salve. "I really am sorry, Remus," he apologized again.

"I know," Lupin said. "So am I. Maybe I overreacted; I was on edge ever since Harry told me you were summoned." Snape started to scowl, and Lupin said, "Don't blame Harry! You could have told me you were going, or at least left a message!"

"I'm sorry," Snape mumbled. "I just didn't want you to worry."

"You think you can disappear without a word, and I won't worry?" Lupin asked, his voice starting to rise in pitch and volume. He paused to calm himself. "Sorry. I can't help but worry, but I'll worry less if you keep me informed."

"Yes, Remus," Snape said meekly. "I'm sorry."

Lupin very carefully kissed him on the cheek, and then continued treating Snape's welts. "I was so worried, imagining the worst, and then when you slapped me away, all that tension just burst out at once..."

"I told you, Lupin, you don't have to apologize. Merlin knows that I deserve it, not just for this, but for all the other times I've hurt you--"

"I know you didn't really mean it," Lupin interrupted. "But I was hurt and angry, and I wanted to hurt you in turn...it was an awful feeling; I never want to feel that way again." He hesitated, then said softly, "And...I saw your face. You were scared. Scared of losing me?"

A sudden lump in his throat rendered Snape mute, and he nodded silently.

Lupin gently cradled Snape's face between his hands and said, "I have told you before, Severus, nothing will make me leave you. Nothing will make me stop loving you. No matter what you do, no matter how much you push me away, I will never let you go."

"I don't deserve you," Snape whispered.

Lupin shook his head, with a touch of impatience. "I'm not a saint, Severus. If I rarely lose my temper, it's because I was always afraid of losing control of the wolf. It was only when you accepted the wolf, that I was able to accept it as well. And I am jealous, possessive, and insecure." He growled a little, baring his teeth. "You are my mate, and I want the world to know you are mine." He gently nipped at Snape's throat. "I know that you love me, but I want you to acknowledge that love in public. I know it's too dangerous to really go public, but among the people we trust, I want you to treat me like your lover, not your enemy." He lifted Snape's fingertips to his lips and kissed them. "I want to know that you love me as much as I love you."

Snape threw his arms around Lupin, heedless of the welts and salve covering his body. "I do love you, Remus!" he whispered fiercely. "I have always loved you, I would do anything for you!" They held each other tightly for a long time, then he added with a hint of dry humor, "Even humiliate myself in front of the children for you."

Lupin laughed. "A fate worse than death! Seriously, Severus, I know how hard that was for you, and I appreciate it." He kissed Snape on the cheek again. "Now I know you truly love me."

"Now that I've proved my undying love for you," Snape said in a sour voice that--judging by Lupin's grin--wasn't fooling his lover one bit, "can we call a truce? If I promise not to push you away, will you agree not to molest me in public?"

Lupin giggled. "As I long as I can molest you in private."

"Agreed," said Snape, trying to keep the sour look on his face, but his lips twitched upwards in a smile.

"Now, let's finish treating your wounds," Lupin said, and continued applying the salve.

Despite the pain--which was really not so bad now anyway, since the salve was doing its job--the feel of Lupin's hands caressing his body was starting to have its usual effect on Snape. "You've got salve all over your robes," he observed.

"It's an old robe," Lupin said with a shrug. "It's no big deal."

"Perhaps you should take them off," Snape purred, ignoring Lupin. "So that you don't completely ruin them." Lupin glanced up, a little startled, at that purr. Snape grinned. "Besides, that would put us on a more equal footing; I am in a rather...undignified...position at the moment."

Lupin smiled back at him slyly. "So it would make you more comfortable if I undressed?"

"Much more," Snape purred.

"But Severus," Lupin said in mock-concern, "I'm afraid I might not be able to control myself around you."

"Did I say that I wanted you to control yourself?"

"But you're hurt, Severus," Lupin protested with real concern this time, although his eyes were still merry.

"I made that salve myself," Snape said haughtily. "I assure you it's quite effective. Besides, it's just a few welts."

"More than a few," Lupin said, applying salve to the inside of Snape's thigh. But despite his words, he let his hand linger there longer than necessary, and Snape shivered. "But I suppose we could be careful..."

"Very careful," Snape agreed in a husky voice.

"Perhaps we should continue this on the bed," Lupin said, his voice turning slightly hoarse as well. "For your comfort, of course."

"Of course. And since you're so concerned about making me comfortable..."

Lupin smiled and began to unfasten his robes.

*** 

Harry's eyes went wide with horror as Snape staggered into the dining room, a little unsteady on his feet. He looked awful; bright red welts stood out in sharp contrast against the dead-white skin of his face and hands. Voldemort must have done that to him...had he found out Snape was a traitor? But no...Voldemort surely would never have let him live, if that were the case...

The other children stared in shock as Lupin gently touched Snape's face in a gesture of concern and affection, and Snape slapped Lupin's hand away. Then they all jumped up and ran to the doorway to watch as Snape chased after Lupin. 

"Get back here and mind your own business!" Mrs. Weasley scolded, but Professor Blackmore stopped her.

"No, Molly," she said quietly. "Let them be."

"But--"

"Severus has been hiding this long enough," Blackmore said in that quiet voice. "They need to see this. Or rather, Remus needs them to see it."

Mr. Weasley was peering curiously over the children's heads. "Goodness," he muttered to himself. "I still can't believe it, Remus and Severus..."

"What do you mean, Daddy?" Ginny asked, but he didn't answer.

Mrs. Weasley heaved a sigh of resignation. "Honestly, Arthur, you're as bad as the children!" But in spite of herself, she came over to watch as well.

Sirius shoved his way into the crowd packed in the doorway, scowling furiously as he watched Lupin and Snape argue. "I swore I'd turn that slimy git into a slug if he hurt Remy," he growled, reaching for his wand, but let his hand fall back to his side when he saw Blackmore glaring at him.

"Leave them alone, Sirius," she said sternly. "They have to work this out by themselves."

"It's one thing when it's a game we're both playing," Lupin was saying angrily, "and another entirely when you push me away, in the safety of our home, when I'm concerned about you!" 

"What on earth is he talking about?" Ron wondered out loud.

"You know I'm just trying to protect you--" Snape argued.

"I don't see any Death Eaters around here, do you, Severus?" Lupin shouted.

"Just one," Sirius muttered.

Lupin and Snape both yelled at Sirius to shut up, to the children's further surprise. They had never seen the always calm and patient werewolf lose his temper like this before. They continued to watch as the pair argued, and saw Snape's face fill with fear and guilt.

"REMUS!" Snape shouted as Lupin turned away from him. 

"'Remus'?" Ron asked incredulously. "Snape never calls Lupin by his first name!" Then he let out an ear-piercing shriek when Snape grabbed Lupin and kissed him firmly on the mouth, in full view of everyone. Hermione's and Ginny's mouths dropped open in shock, and Harry was a little stunned himself, even though he knew the pair were lovers. He quickly looked away; he had already witnessed this type of scene once before, and had no desire to see it again.

"Get a room, you two," Sirius muttered grumpily.

"Shh!" hissed Blackmore.

"Happy now?" Snape asked sarcastically, when the kiss finally ended.

"Very happy, Severus," Lupin replied, and Harry thought his three friends were going to faint when Lupin snuggled against Snape contentedly. And as if everything else hadn't been shocking enough, Snape actually apologized to Lupin! In a way, that was more shocking than the kiss, because Snape never apologized to anyone. Lupin apologized as well, and the two teachers embraced tenderly.

"Wh...wh...what's going on here?!" Ron asked in outrage, although his voice came out as more of a squeak than a shout.

Snape's face turned red, and he gave the children a murderous look. "If you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I swear I will kill you!"

"Severus!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, and suddenly she looked as fierce and protective as a mother bear. Harry lifted his hand to his face to hide his smile; he didn't think even the dreaded Potions Master would be a match for Mrs. Weasley when she thought her children might be in danger.

"I will impress upon the children the importance of keeping your relationship secret," Blackmore said calmly. "Why don't you go upstairs and let Remus tend your wounds?"

"But I have news," Snape protested, but in a halfhearted voice. Harry looked up eagerly, and Snape added sharply, "For Order members only."

"Can it keep till morning?" Blackmore asked. "Is anyone in imminent danger?"

"It can wait," Snape said, "but not for long. We should convene a meeting tomorrow; I have very important news to relay."

"Very well. I will send out the messages," Blackmore said, then added in a stern voice, "Now go upstairs and get some rest." 

"Yes, Professor Blackmore," Snape said with surprising meekness, and he and Lupin left.

Blackmore smiled at Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, who were staring at her expectantly. "Why don't we go back into the dining room and talk about this over dessert?" she suggested.

*** 

Blackmore had bought cream puffs and eclairs for dessert, plump and oozing rich cream, but the children barely touched them as they listened to her calmly explain how Lupin and Snape had "grown close" while working on her class project, and how they had parted bitterly over Sirius's prank.

"So it wasn't just a prank," Hermione said; of all the children, she was usually the quickest to pick up on things. She gave Sirius an accusing look and said, "You were trying to break them up, weren't you?"

Sirius flushed and muttered, "I was trying to protect Moony; I was afraid Snape was going to hurt him...I just wanted to scare him off, that's all."

"If Remus had hurt or killed Severus in his wolf state," Blackmore said angrily, "he probably would have been imprisoned or executed!" The children gasped, and she gave them an impatient look. "What, you hadn't realized that? Werewolves are just barely tolerated in our society; the Ministry would never let one who had attacked a human go free, even if it was an accident."

"I didn't realize," said Harry, turning pale. "I knew Snape's life was in danger, but I never thought that Professor Lupin's might be, too..."

"Well, you were not the only one who didn't stop to think," Blackmore said, shooting a glare in Sirius's direction.

"All right, I admit I was stupid!" Sirius shouted, looking ashamed and a little sullen at the same time. "I didn't think! I never meant to hurt Moony! I didn't even mean to hurt Snape--not really; I just wanted to scare him!" Blackmore glared at him again, and he said in a quieter and more sincerely remorseful voice, "I could never have lived with myself if anything happened to Remus because of me." He looked up at Harry. "I owe so much to your father, Harry. By saving Snape, he also saved Remus. So he is doubly a hero."

Blackmore's expression softened slightly, although she still looked concerned, perhaps picking up on the fact--as Harry had--that Sirius had expressed relief only over Lupin's life being saved, not Snape's. From the thoughtful look and small frown on Hermione's face, he thought that she might have noticed too. "In any case," Blackmore continued, "Severus felt betrayed by Remus, and they remained apart for almost twenty years."

"But it wasn't Professor Lupin's fault!" Ron said indignantly.

Blackmore sighed. "No, but Severus has always been incredibly stubborn. And...there are other factors at work here. Severus had a difficult childhood; I cannot give you any of the details, but suffice it to say that he had little reason to trust anyone." Harry flushed and squirmed uncomfortably, remembering the memories he had seen during his Occlumency lessons and in the Pensieve. "And the inter-House rivalry has also served to foster distrust between Slytherin and Gryffindor."

"Slytherins are all slimy gits," Ron muttered under his breath.

"That is exactly what I'm talking about!" Blackmore snapped, and Ron cringed. "Yes, I'm sure that many of the Slytherin children have been unpleasant to you...but each and every one? Or do you judge them solely based upon their House?"

"Dylan's all right," Hermione said.

"I thought he didn't want to be seen associating with a Gryffindor," sneered Ron.

Hermione started to say something, then bit her lip and fell silent. 

"The pressures are great," Blackmore said in a kinder voice, "not to associate with someone from a rival House. It is difficult for such a friendship to survive, when the Houses of both parties regard them as traitors for associating with the enemy." Ron flushed, and Hermione gave Blackmore a grateful look. "As Remus and Severus discovered," Blackmore added, and Sirius flushed as well. "But do not judge Severus too harshly. Despite his anger, he has always cared about Remus. You must not tell anyone I told you this, but Severus helped to create the Wolfsbane Potion." The children stared at her in shock; this was news even to Harry. "He let his partner, a Japanese wizard named Kamiyama, take all the credit so that no one would discover he had anything to do with it."

"He did it for Professor Lupin?" Ginny asked, her eyes wide. "He kept quiet about it so Professor Lupin wouldn't find out?"

"Well, partly because the Death Eaters might find it suspicious, but yes, I suspect he covered up his role in the potion's creation mainly so that Remus would not suspect he still cared about him." Blackmore sighed. "He is such a stubborn boy..."

"When did they get back together again?" Hermione asked.

Blackmore smiled. "When Remus began teaching at Hogwarts."

"WHAT?!" Ginny, Ron, and Hermione shrieked in chorus. "But Snape acted like he hated Lupin!" Ron said. "He got Lupin fired!"

"There is a very thin line between love and hate," Blackmore said. "At first, the hate was real. But eventually they worked things out."

"How?" asked Ron skeptically.

"That's between Remus and Severus," Blackmore replied. "If you want to know the details, you'll have to ask them." 

Harry privately thought he would rather take on all the Death Eaters without his wand rather than ask Snape for details about his love life, and from the expressions on his friends' faces, they clearly agreed. But it might be safe to ask Lupin, if they could talk to him when Snape wasn't around...

"Then, after they got back together, Severus kept up the pretense of hatred so that no one would suspect the truth," Blackmore continued.

"But...why did he get Professor Lupin fired?" Ginny asked in bewilderment.

Blackmore gave them that impatient look again. "Can't you guess?" she asked, her eyes sliding over to Sirius.

"He thought Professor Lupin was helping you," Hermione said to Sirius. "Again." 

Sirius hung his head guiltily, but muttered, "Snape didn't have to be so damned stubborn..."

"They made up again afterwards," Blackmore said. "But the damage was already done. Remus's secret was exposed, and he had to leave Hogwarts."

Harry and Hermione stared at each other, remembering how Snape had shown up at Lupin's office right before he left the school. "That's what he was doing that day!" Harry exclaimed. "He came to apologize to Lupin!" He shook his head, still having trouble picturing that.

"How could Lupin forgive him?" Ron asked, still looking confused and indignant.

Blackmore smiled. "Remus is very forgiving. And Severus has his good points, even if he doesn't show them to you very often. He made the potion for Remus. He risks his life spying on the Death Eaters. He's worked hard to protect Harry, even if he isn't very gracious about it. He embarrassed himself today in front of you to prove his love to Remus. And he saved Sirius's life."

"WHAT?!" Harry's friends exclaimed again, and Sirius scowled.

"That's right," Hermione said, "Professor Lupin mentioned something about that the night we moved in, but he didn't say anything about how or why, and Professor Snape didn't want to talk about it."

Blackmore grinned. "Sirius was badly wounded in the fight with the Death Eaters. Severus cast a healing spell that transferred his own strength to Sirius, a particularly dangerous spell. If anything had gone wrong, Severus could have died." 

"You're kidding!" Ron said disbelievingly. "He hates Sirius!" Then, perhaps recalling that he had thought Snape hated Lupin as well, he added hesitantly, "Er...doesn't he?"

"I would never kid about such a thing," Blackmore said with a straight face. "Yes, he does hate Sirius, but Sirius is Remus's best friend, so he saved Sirius for Remus's sake."

"You knew?" Ron asked Harry, looking shocked and a little hurt. "And you never told us?!"

"He couldn't," Blackmore interrupted, to Harry's relief. "He was sworn to secrecy. And the three of you must swear to keep all this a secret as well. Severus was concerned about more than just being embarrassed in front of his students. If the Dark Lord or the Death Eaters should find out he is having a relationship with Remus, an ally of Dumbledore and an enemy of Voldemort, they will realize he is a traitor and most likely kill him." She gave them a very stern and serious look. "It is very important that you keep your silence, and say nothing, not even to your friends and family. Well...except Molly and Arthur, of course; they already know. But even the other Order members, apart from Tonks and Kingsley, do not know about this. If a hint of gossip should leak out in school, for example, and the child of a Death Eater should hear..."

The children went pale, and solemnly promised not to tell anyone.

"I still can't believe it," Mr. Weasley muttered. "Snape, of all people!"

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. 

"I thought Professor Snape was in love with _you_ ," Hermione suddenly blurted out to Blackmore, and blushed as Blackmore burst into laughter.

"Why did you think that, dear?" she laughed, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Well, because he was dancing with you last Christmas," Hermione said, still blushing, "and because you kissed him under the mistletoe."

"SNAPE? And BRANWEN?" Sirius asked, sounding like he didn't know whether to be amused or outraged.

"I love Severus," Blackmore said with a smile, "but not in that way. I have known Severus, Remus, and Sirius since they were eleven years old. I love them the way I would love my own children, if I had any."

"But they're adults now," Hermione pointed out. "And they're actually older than you are now, since you didn't age in...er...wherever it was you were hiding for fourteen years."

"You're right, Hermione," Blackmore said thoughtfully. "But I was their teacher for so long that I suppose it's difficult for me to see them as adults sometimes." 

Sirius snorted, and said, "You certainly lecture us as if you were still our teacher!"

"Only when you behave childishly," Blackmore retorted, but with a smile, and Sirius scowled for a moment, then laughed and smiled back at her. Blackmore turned back to Hermione and said, "I'm afraid that even if Severus weren't already involved with Remus, I could never think of him romantically. I can't help but think of him as the young boy I was so concerned about over twenty years ago..." She sighed, and suddenly looked tired and guilty. "I cared about all my students, especially the Slytherins, whom I wanted to save from Voldemort...Dylan's father was one of them. Evan Rosier was a charming and mischievous boy once, before the Dark Lord corrupted him. So many of my former students are dead--Rosier, Wilkes, Riggs, and Foley--and others, like the Lestranges and the Malfoys, willingly gave up their souls to Voldemort."

"It's not your fault, Branwen," Sirius said quietly, patting her on the shoulder in a slightly awkward, but sincere attempt to comfort her.

"Well, at least Severus survived," Blackmore sighed, laying her hand over Sirius's for a moment. "Even if he is scarred by his time among the Death Eaters...but then, the war left scars upon all of us, I suppose." She saw the children looking at her, anxious and uncomfortable, and she smiled and said in a lighter tone, "Anyway, I suspect Severus would be horrified if you told him that you thought he was in love with me! I am, after all, the dreaded Professor Blackmore, who terrorized my students!" She grinned and added, "And I gave Sirius and Severus detention on many occasions!"

"Yes, I remember that well," Sirius said sourly, and Blackmore laughed.

"What about Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Oh, Remus was a good boy," Blackmore said. "I never gave him detention. He only got into mischief when James and Sirius dragged him along into one of their foolish stunts."

"What sort of stunts?" Ron asked, a speculative gleam in his eyes.

"That's enough!" said his mother firmly. "It's getting late; finish your dessert and go to bed!" She saw Sirius suppressing a laugh, and added, "And don't go filling their head with nonsense, Sirius! As Harry's godfather, you're supposed to be setting a good example for the children!"

"I didn't say a word, Molly," Sirius said innocently, then turned his attention to his dessert, pretending not to notice Mrs. Weasley's you-aren't-fooling-me-one-bit glare. The children grinned at each other, quickly gobbled up their pastries, and headed upstairs.

*** 

Instead of going to bed immediately, they gathered together in Harry's room.

"I can't believe it!" Ron kept saying. "Lupin and SNAPE?!"

"Who would've thought Professor Snape was gay?" Ginny asked, still sounding shocked herself.

"Well, it's not like I could ever picture a woman wanting to touch that slimy git," Ron said. "But then again, I can't imagine a guy wanting to touch him either!" He made a face. "Gross!"

"Well, I really thought it was Professor Blackmore that he liked," Hermione said in consternation; it was not so much that she particularly wanted them to be together, but she always hated being proven wrong. "Still, it does explain a great deal...like why he came over for Christmas last year and let Lupin talk him into buying us presents. And it explains why Professor Lupin was always nice to him, no matter how rude he was, even after Snape got him dismissed from his job. I thought he just felt guilty about the prank Sirius pulled, but he must have still been in love with Professor Snape all those years..." She sighed dramatically.

Ron made a gagging noise. "That's disgusting!"

"Well, I'm surprised to find out that they're gay," his sister said, "but I wouldn't really call it disgusting."

"That's not what I meant!" Ron snapped. "Although it is pretty weird, to find out that your teachers are queer! But Lupin's a pretty nice guy; even if he is gay, what the hell does he see in Snape?!"

"Sirius says Lupin always felt sorry for Snape when they were in school," Harry said. "Because of the pranks Sirius and my dad used to play on him. He says Lupin thought Snape was 'lonely and misunderstood'. He says Lupin sympathized with Snape because he felt like a misfit too, being a werewolf and all, I guess."

"Lonely?" Ron asked disbelievingly. "Snape? He acts like he can't stand being around people!"

"Maybe it's just an act," Hermione said thoughtfully. "He can't be all bad, since he's risking his life to spy on the Death Eaters. And he did create the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin."

"You think he's so mean because he's lonely?" Ginny asked skeptically, but she thought it over. "Well...maybe. If he was as unpopular back then as he is now, I guess he might have been."

"If he wants to be popular, he should treat people more nicely," Ron grumbled.

"Maybe he doesn't know how," Ginny said.

"Sirius said Snape was kind of an oddball in school," Harry said.

"In my old school, before I came to Hogwarts," Hermione said slowly, "some of the kids teased me a lot. It hurt my feelings, but if I let them see that, they would just tease me more. So I pretended like I just didn't care, and eventually they got bored. Maybe that's what Snape was doing. Taken to more of an extreme, of course."

Ron shook his head, but Ginny said, "Professor Lupin was the nicest teacher we ever had. I suppose if he likes Snape, there must be SOMETHING good about him..."

"There's the Wolfsbane Potion," Hermione pointed out again. "And he did save Sirius."

Since Blackmore had already mentioned it, Harry figured it was safe to tell his friends about what had happened in the Headmaster's office after the battle with the Death Eaters. He explained how Snape had risked his life with the Blood Healing spell, and how Snape had said he had done it for Lupin.

"Wow," Ginny said softly.

"Snape used Dark Magic to save Sirius?" Ron asked, looking confused.

"I think it's only Dark Magic if you use someone else's blood," Harry said. "But Blackmore said it is prohibited. I don't really care whether it is or not, since it saved Sirius's life!"

"I told you he was on our side!" Hermione said triumphantly. "I told you he was all right!"

Ron rolled his eyes but said nothing. It was a bit difficult to argue that Snape was really working for the bad guys when he had saved Sirius. Finally he mumbled, "I still don't understand what Lupin sees in him."

"I think it's sad," Hermione said with another dramatic sigh, "how they were parted over a misunderstanding for twenty years."

"It is sort of romantic, when you think about it," Ginny said thoughtfully, as Ron stared at her incredulously. "They were separated for all those years, and even though they hated each other--"

"Well, actually, Lupin says he never hated Snape," Harry interjected. "But Snape hated Lupin."

"--And even though Snape hated Lupin, he must have still felt something for him, because he made the Wolfsbane Potion for him," Ginny continued. "And then, after twenty years, they finally met again at the same place they had parted, and realized that they still loved each other..."

"You've been reading too many romance novels, Ginny!" Ron snorted.

"But they still can't be together," Hermione said, ignoring him. "Well, only in secret, because they can't let the Death Eaters find out..."

"They have to hide their love," Ginny said melodramatically, and both girls sighed in unison.

Harry was staring at them in disbelief, and Ron exclaimed, "You two are crazy!"

The two girls gave Ron and Harry rather patronizing looks. "Boys!" sniffed Ginny. "You just don't understand!"

"Girls!" Ron retorted. "I can't believe you're getting all sappy and moony over Snape!"

"I can see why you don't have a girlfriend," his sister said scornfully. "You don't have a romantic bone in your body."

"They're too young to understand," Hermione said, giving the boys an almost pitying look.

"We're the same as age as you!" Harry protested. "And a year older than Ginny! What's so romantic about Snape?"

"Everyone knows that girls mature faster than boys," Hermione said in a smugly superior tone of voice. "Come on, Ginny," she said, and the two girls left the room.

"Women!" Ron said in disgust. "I'll never understand them!"

"Me neither," said Harry, shaking his head.

*** 

When the children came downstairs the next morning, they found the adults already sitting down to breakfast. Mrs. Weasley called out a pleasant, "Good morning!" and set four more plates on the table. Mr. Weasley was drinking a cup of coffee and reading the Daily Prophet. Blackmore was eating only some fresh fruit and toast, but Bane was gorging himself on a plateful of sausages.

"Don't eat so fast or you'll choke to death, you greedy little pig," Blackmore scolded, poking her familiar in his now-rounded belly.

Sirius's plate of eggs and sausages lay untouched while he glared at the couple sitting across the table from him. Snape was working on a cup of coffee and a couple of the pastries left over from last night's dessert. Lupin had a plate heaped with eggs, sausages, and toast, and every now and then he would lift his fork, but had trouble getting the food to his mouth, because apparently he could not take his eyes off of Snape. He was beaming happily at his lover, and looked healthier than Harry had ever seen him before: his face was unmarked, except by the faint smile lines around his mouth and eyes; his blue eyes were bright and alert; and his skin had a healthy flush to it--in fact he was positively glowing.

Lupin attempted to stab a sausage with his fork, but missed since he wasn't looking at his plate. "Will you please stop staring at me, Lupin?" Snape asked irritably.

"Sorry, Severus," Lupin said agreeably enough, but didn't take his eyes off Snape's face. Snape scowled and bit into an eclair. "You've got cream on your face," Lupin observed, then helpfully reached over and brushed his thumb against the corner of Snape's mouth to wipe away the cream.

"LUPIN!" Snape howled, turning red. He raised his hand, as if to slap Lupin's hand away, then froze mid-gesture. He slowly lowered his hand back to the table, and let Lupin wipe the cream off his mouth. "I do have a napkin, you know," he said, in a sullen but subdued voice.

Lupin just smiled, slowly and sensually licking the cream off his thumb in a way that made all four children blush deeply. Snape's face turned even redder as he indignantly shouted, "LUPIN!" and Sirius, who had just taken a sip of his coffee, choked and sprayed it all over the table. Fortunately, neither Mr. Weasley nor Mrs. Weasley saw this, because Mr. Weasley's newspaper had been blocking his view of the table, and Mrs. Weasley had turned away to get a fresh pan of eggs and sausages. 

"What's going on here?" she asked in a puzzled and suspicious voice.

"Nothing," Lupin said sweetly, his blue eyes wide and guileless. Snape snorted but said nothing, and Sirius just scowled and wiped up the coffee he'd spat out on the table.

"Behave yourself, Mr. Lupin," Blackmore scolded, but her eyes were dancing with laughter.

Mrs. Weasley gave Lupin another suspicious look as she heaped the children's plates with food, and said in a disapproving tone, "You really should eat something a little more healthy for breakfast, Severus."

He scowled at her ferociously and snapped, "Stick to mothering the children, Molly," then exclaimed, "Ouch!" as Lupin kicked him under the table.

"Be nice, Severus," Lupin said. "Besides, you should set a good example for the children."

"Look who's talking," Snape said, giving Lupin a sour look.

"I don't know what you mean, Severus," Lupin said innocently, and actually fluttered his eyelashes at Snape. Sirius choked on his coffee again. Snape scowled and took another bite of his eclair, hastily wiping his mouth with his napkin afterwards before Lupin could wipe anymore stray cream off his face. Lupin just grinned and turned his attention to his own breakfast, tucking into his food heartily.

"My, but you have a good appetite this morning, Remus," Mrs. Weasley said with a smile as she poured some orange juice for the children, then sat down to her own breakfast.

"The wolf is hungry," Lupin said, giving Snape a sly smile. Snape choked on his food, and Lupin patted him on the back, saying solicitously, "Are you all right, Severus?"

Snape managed to swallow, then gasped, "Yes, but I think I'll finish eating in my room!" He picked up his plate and coffee cup, and left the table in a huff, his black robes swirling around him. Lupin shrugged, feigning a look of innocent confusion, and continued eating.

"'Remus was a good boy,'" Sirius muttered, repeating Blackmore's words from the night before. "Hah!" He turned to Blackmore and said, "Remus is not the little angel you think he is."

Blackmore just looked amused and said, "Severus needs to lighten up a little. It won't kill him to develop a sense of humor."

"Oh, he has one," Lupin said between bites of food. "It's just a rather dark sense of humor, that's all."

"His idea of a good time is handing out detention," muttered Ron under his breath.

"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley scolded, and Lupin chuckled.

"I've always loved Severus's sharp Slytherin wit," he said. 

"Is that what you call it?" Sirius asked sarcastically. "All those times he was insulting us, he was just being witty? 'Sharp wit'--right; sharp like a knife!"

"Razor-sharp," Lupin agreed with a smile, and Sirius gave up, shaking his head in disgust.

The children exchanged incredulous looks; surely Lupin loved Snape for more than his "sharp wit". They were dying to ask him what that might be, but figured Mrs. Weasley would squelch that line of questioning if they brought it up now. It would have to wait until they could catch Lupin alone...

*** 

A couple of hours later, the children were sent upstairs to their rooms as the Order members began arriving for the meeting. They protested that they were old enough to attend as well, but their arguments fell on deaf ears.

"We fought the Death Eaters, Mom," Ron complained.

"And almost got killed doing so!" his mother said, glaring at him.

"Not to mention that you showed extremely poor judgment in running off to the Ministry by yourselves," Snape pointed out coolly.

"They're not the only ones who showed poor judgment," Sirius said, giving Snape a pointed look. They glared at each other.

"Upstairs! NOW!" Blackmore barked out, and the four children found themselves running up the stairs before they knew what was happening.

"Both Snape and Blackmore at Hogwarts--boy, is next year ever going to be fun," Ron said sarcastically.

*** 

"Very impressive, Branwen," Snape said as he watched the children scurry upstairs.

"Why thank you, Severus," Branwen replied with a grin. "You're not so bad yourself."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I really feel sorry for your students next year," he to her as they filed into the meeting room. "Try not to terrorize Harry and the others too much."

Bane croaked with laughter, and Branwen patted Sirius on the shoulder. "Don't worry; they're much tougher than you think, Sirius. They did survive five years with Severus, after all. Well, four in Ginny's case."

"I heard that, Branwen," Snape said sourly as he took a seat at the table.

"I meant you to, dear," she said serenely, sitting next to him.

Lupin laughed as he took the seat on the other side of Snape, who scowled and said, "Oh, shut up, Lupin."

Soon all the members had arrived, and Dumbledore called the meeting to order. "I understand you have some important information for us, Severus?"

"Yes," said Snape, and everyone stared at him. The welts had faded considerably, but were still visible on his face. 

"What happened to you, Severus?" Tonks asked in concern. "Did You-Know-Who do that to you?"

"It's not important, and furthermore, it's none of your business," he said curtly. "As for my news, Gwydion Donner has just been appointed to a position in the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Now that the Dementors are no longer protecting Azkaban, the Ministry needs spells to take their place, spells that will keep the prisoners from escaping. Gwydion has been assigned to help develop those spells."

"Yes, I just heard about it myself," Shacklebolt said with a scowl. "It's like putting the fox in charge of the henhouse!"

"There's got to be something we can do to stop him," Tonks said, sounding very upset. "We can't let a Death Eater work at the Ministry!"

"It's not like there weren't several working there up until recently," Snape pointed out. 

"When I found out," Shacklebolt said, "I tried to convince the powers-that-be that hiring Donner wasn't such a good idea, but Gwydion is a respected wizard with a real talent for magical research. They won't fire him for no good reason."

"If Severus testifies against him--" Tonks began.

"No," Dumbledore said firmly. "Severus would be in grave danger if he did, and we would no longer have a spy in Voldemort's camp."

"Besides," Branwen said cynically, "it would be Severus's word against Gwydion's, and Gwydion is much more popular than Severus. Nothing short of questioning under Veritaserum will get Gwydion to admit the truth, and his family has too much influence for the Ministry to obtain such a warrant."

"So we're just going to do nothing?" Tonks asked indignantly.

Goewin Donner said quietly, "I can testify against Gwydion if necessary."

"I'm sorry, Goewin, but your testimony would be worthless," Shacklebolt said. "It's only hearsay, since you didn't witness the Death Eaters' meetings, but heard about it secondhand from Snape."

"That's not what I'm talking about," she said, her face turning red. "Gwydion once used unlawful magic, to bind another person against their will, in order to facilitate a rape."

The room erupted with startled exclamations. "What? When?" asked a startled Shacklebolt. Then seeing Goewin's red face, he remembered the rumors he'd heard when she had married the much older Mathias Donner. There had been many wild rumors floating about--some people said that Mathias had become hopelessly infatuated with his young apprentice, others whispered that one or both of his nephews had "dishonored" the girl, and that he was marrying her to save her reputation. "Oh," Shacklebolt said softly, giving Goewin a sympathetic look. He noticed Snape giving her a similar look; the Potions Master had been one of the few people who hadn't looked surprised at Goewin's announcement, and Shacklebolt recalled that he had been a friend of Ariane Donner's lover; he had probably known the truth all along.

"The charges are too old to stick at this point, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said gently. "I fear it would accomplish nothing, save to earn the enmity and suspicion of the Death Eaters--and that might put Dylan at risk."

"Then what should we do, Albus?" Goewin asked softly.

"If we get rid of Gwydion," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "Voldemort will probably find another way to place a spy within the Ministry eventually. Perhaps it is better this way; at least we know who the spy is, and can keep an eye on him."

"I don't like leaving him in such a key position," Shacklebolt said with a scowl. "He's going to use his position to break the Death Eaters out of Azkaban."

"Of course he is," Snape said coolly. "That is why the Dark Lord wanted him there, after all." Shacklebolt and several other Order members glared at him, and he continued calmly, "But the Dark Lord would find a way to free the prisoners even without Gwydion. It might be harder, and take longer, but eventually he would find a way to do it. Let us consider how we might use Gwydion, perhaps feed him misinformation..."

"Very good, Severus," Branwen said approvingly, and Snape smiled slightly. 

"I still don't like it," Shacklebolt muttered.

"Nor do I," Tonks agreed. "But I suppose we have to make the best of it. Have you any idea when the break-in is going to take place, Severus?"

"Not right away," he replied, "so we have some time to prepare. Gwydion is afraid of being exposed, so the Dark Lord has agreed to wait 'a suitable interval' so that Gwydion will not be a suspect when the prisoners escape. I think we have at least a month, and probably more. The Dark Lord is in no rush to free them; he is annoyed at them for allowing themselves to be captured, and said it won't hurt them to 'cool their heels' in prison for awhile."

"Well, at least that gives us some leeway," Shacklebolt muttered.

"Oh, and by the way, the Dark Lord told Gwydion to find a way to shift the blame for the escape to someone else, so I think it's quite likely that he'll try to frame someone for it. One of his coworkers, or perhaps one of the guards."

"Lovely," muttered Shacklebolt. "Very well, we'll be on guard."

"Anything else, Snape?" wheezed Elphias Doge.

"Nothing except that the Dark Lord is very distressed to learn that Branwen is both alive and will be teaching at Hogwarts again." Branwen smiled wickedly, and Snape warned her, "He's ordered me to keep a close eye on you, and to try to discredit you."

"By all means, go ahead and discredit me, if it will pacify the Dark Lord," she said cheerfully. "People have been saying nasty things about my family for generations."

"He's a little afraid of you, I think," Snape said. "He was quite put out that I couldn't give him any details about your disappearance."

Branwen's playful expression quickly turned sober. "I'm sorry if that caused you trouble, Severus," she said quietly. She paused to think for a minute. "You can't tell him the whole truth, of course, but feel free to hint that I used Dark Magic or summoned a demon."

"If you were whisked off by a demon, how did you escape?" Snape asked sardonically.

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully, then brightened. "Perhaps I was not hiding from Voldemort, but from the demon I summoned. I fled while he was tearing apart the Death Eaters."

"For fourteen years?" Snape asked skeptically.

"Demons have long memories," she said. "Or...perhaps the demon was dazzled by my beauty," she grinned, "and took me as his lover." She received several wide-eyed looks of horror and fascination from her fellow Order members. "I spent fourteen years as his leman, but eventually he tired of me and sent me home." Snape raised an eyebrow. "Well, you and I can discuss it in more detail later, and see if we can come up with something convincing..."

"I don't think you should come up with too pat a story," Lupin said. "You should remain a little mysterious, and besides, Voldemort will expect you to be suspicious of Severus; it would be out of character for you to confide too much in him."

"Very good, Remus," Branwen said, as if praising one of her students. "We shall come up with a few tantalizing hints to throw to the Dark Lord; let me think about it some more."

"With your imagination, maybe you should take up a second occupation as a novelist," Snape muttered. "Your last idea sounded like a lurid romance tale..."

"'I Was a Demon Lord's Love Slave,'" she laughed. "Has a nice ring to it."

Shacklebolt cleared his throat impatiently. "Anything else?"

"Are you making any headway on your diplomatic missions, Remus?" Emmeline Vance asked.

"Not much," he admitted. "The Japanese wizards are still a little leery of getting involved. Right now they're doing divination rituals, seeking signs and portents to tell them whether they should ally with us or not." Professor McGonagall gave a disdainful little sniff at that remark, and Lupin smiled. "Their Seers seem to be a little more talented than ours," he said. "Certainly more accurate than Professor Trelawney. Professor Kamiyama's granddaughter definitely has the true Sight." He smiled again, remembering Miyako's declaration that he and Snape were bound together by a mystical red thread, which meant they were destined to be lovers. 

"Well then," Sirius said a little dubiously, "let's hope their visions tell them they should join us. If they have any sense, they'll realize Voldemort is eventually going to be a threat to them, too."

"As for the non-humans," Lupin sighed, "they remain suspicious. They want proof of our goodwill before committing themselves to our cause." He turned to Dumbledore and said urgently, "The Ministry really needs to make some concessions to them, or there's a very strong chance that they'll turn to Voldemort instead. Why should they risk their lives for us, if they're still going to be treated like second-class citizens at best?"

Dumbledore sighed wearily. "Believe me, I am trying, but it takes time to undo hundreds of years' worth of prejudices."

"Time we don't have," Sirius said impatiently. "Voldemort will run right over the Ministry while they're wasting their time debating endlessly in their little committees!"

"The changes we are proposing will alter the very fabric of our society," Dumbledore replied, "so naturally they are frightened--"

"Well, the changes Voldemort intends to make will be a lot worse than granting equal rights to non-humans!" Sirius exclaimed in frustration.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed gravely, "and that is why, in the end, I think they will give in."

"Let's just hope it won't be too late by the time they wise up," Sirius said darkly. "Voldemort will likely be making overtures to the non-humans as well, and you can bet he won't waste time organizing a task force or a fact-finding committee..."

"Yes, things tend to get done a lot faster when you can kill anyone who disagrees with you," Snape said dryly, and Sirius snorted and actually smiled, albeit cynically.

"Well, I have obtained an exemption for Remus to teach at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, "and it is likely the anti-werewolf legislation Umbridge enacted will be set aside entirely." The Headmaster smiled, his eyes twinkling, and added, "Umbridge was not a Dark Wizard, but she was a pawn of Lucius Malfoy, and I don't think the Ministry would like that information to be made public."

"Blackmail, Albus?" McGonagall asked, raising an eyebrow, but there was a faint smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

"If that's what it takes," Dumbledore said firmly. He was still smiling pleasantly, but there was something hard and implacable in his eyes now.

There were a few other minor items to discuss, and then the meeting was adjourned. As the other wizards filed out, Snape went over to have a quiet word with Dumbledore.

"The Dark Lord has been in a bad mood of late," he said, then gestured at his face. "He did this, because he was displeased by the lack of information I had for him."

"I'm sorry, Severus," Dumbledore said, looking concerned. 

"I wasn't fishing for sympathy," Snape growled. "Although for my own safety, I would like to have more substantial information to pass on next time."

Dumbledore nodded. "I will provide you with some rumors that will hopefully appease Voldemort."

"But I fared better than my fellow Death Eaters who had nothing to offer him today," Snape continued. "He inflicted curses worse than mine on them, including Bellatrix Lestrange." He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "She was always the most loyal of all the Death Eaters, but yesterday she looked frightened...and resentful."

"Interesting," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard.

"It's highly unlikely that any of them will turn on the Dark Lord, however resentful they might be," Snape cautioned, "for they fear him too much." 

"But now they see that their loyalty is not repaid in kind," Dumbledore said, "and a decrease in morale among the Death Eaters can only benefit us. Thank you, Severus, and please continue to watch for signs of discontent. This could be very useful..."

*** 

The children peered over the second-floor banister, saw the wizards departing, and figured it was safe to go downstairs. They heard concerned murmurs about "the Ministry" and "Azkaban," but all conversation ceased when they spotted the children coming down the stairs. Professor McGonagall smiled and nodded at them, and Tonks cheerily waved at them as she left, but no one stopped to speak to them.

"They treat us like kids," Ron muttered resentfully.

"We _are_ kids," Hermione pointed out. 

"We're practically adults," Ron protested. "We'll be graduating in a couple of years. And we fought the Death Eaters--"

"Shh," Hermione hushed him, seeing Snape talking to Blackmore and Lupin. Ron fell silent, and they listened, hoping to overhear something interesting.

"I've got to go to Diagon Alley to pick up the ingredients--" He broke off, seeing the children watching from the bottom of the staircase, glared at them, and finished, "--for that potion."

"Wait a minute, Severus," Blackmore said. "Those welts are still visible; let me cast a quick glamor on you." She muttered a charm under her breath and flicked her fingers in Snape's direction, and the welts vanished.

"Impressive," Lupin murmured, as Snape examined his hands and nodded.

"Is a--what did she call it--a glamor that hard to cast?" Harry asked.

"Normally, no," Hermione answered. "But she did it without a wand, and that is impressive!"

"Thank you, Branwen," Snape said, and then left.

Lupin headed upstairs, smiling at the children as he passed by them. They looked at each other. "Now's our chance to talk to Lupin when Snape's not around," Ginny said eagerly.

"I'm not really so sure I want to hear the details of Snape's love life," Ron said, making a face.

"Well, I'm going to talk to him," Ginny said in a determined voice. "But you don't have to come if you don't want to." 

She and Hermione started after Lupin. Harry and Ron hesitated for a moment, then Harry said, "Well, I am curious to know why Lupin puts up with him--and you know how smug the girls will be if they know something we don't."

"True," Ron agreed, and they hurried after the girls.

"Professor Lupin," Hermione was saying, "could we talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course," he said with a smile. "Why don't you come up to my room?"

Lupin's room was neat and simply furnished. There was a bookcase filled with the sort of magical texts one might expect a Hogwarts teacher to have, but also foreign language texts and dictionaries, novels, Japanese comic books, and suprisingly, a portable CD player and a stack of CDs on the bottom shelf. The empty spaces on the shelves were decorated with small wooden figurines of foxes and wolves; a pair of wolves--one brown, one black--were tied together with a red cord that was wrapped around their necks. On Lupin's desk were more books, rolls of parchment, and the jeweled music box that had provided the music Blackmore and Snape had waltzed to last Christmas. Another reminder of that Christmas hung on the wall above Lupin's desk: the scroll Snape had given him, of a simple black ink drawing of a wolf.

"Have a seat," Lupin said, taking a seat at his desk. "I'm afraid I only have one extra chair, but you can sit on the bed, if you don't mind." 

Ron turned a little red, having a fleeting image on Snape and Lupin sharing that bed, which he quickly tried to push out of his mind. He hastily took the free chair, and the girls and Harry sat on the bed.

"What can I do for you?" Lupin asked cheerfully.

"Um..." said Ginny, blushing furiously, suddenly shy despite her curiosity. 

Hermione felt a little tongue-tied as well, but it didn't seem like anyone else was going to speak up, so she said, "Well, um, last night was kind of a shock..."

"Yes, I'm sure it was," Lupin agreed, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. "I'm sorry if you were startled, but I really wasn't expecting Severus to...ah...be so demonstrative." He grinned widely as the children blushed. "But I'm glad he did, because I was tired of hiding it, and I believe the four of you are mature enough to understand the need to keep it confidential."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, her face still pink. "But...we were wondering...you see, it was such a surprise, because we thought Professor Snape hated you."

"Well, he did and he didn't," Lupin said, still grinning. "It's rather complicated. Branwen told me she explained a little of it to you last night...?"

"A little," Hermione replied. "She told us that the two of you, uh, 'grew close' when she teamed you up on that class project, and we know that Professor Snape turned against you because of Sirius's prank..." Lupin's expression sobered slightly. "And she told us that Professor Snape created the Wolfsbane Potion for you, and that you two got back together when you were teaching at Hogwarts."

"Is that really true?" Ron finally blurted out. "He acted like he hated you! And he got you fired!"

"Why did you forgive him, after that?" Harry asked in a quieter voice.

Lupin sighed. "As I said, it's rather complicated. And Severus would be upset if I shared certain...er...personal details with you."

"It's just..." Harry stumbled over his words, trying to find a polite way to phrase his question. "It's hard to understand why you, um, like Professor Snape so much when he's so...um..."

"When he doesn't seem to treat you very nicely," Hermione finished.

Lupin smiled at them. "Surely by now you must have realized there is more to Severus than what you see on the surface. The sarcasm, the insults, the outward bluster--to some extent it is a cover; he does need to preserve the fiction that he is a Death Eater, and Slytherins are taught not to reveal their true emotions too easily, for fear of being manipulated--or so I am told." Ron and Harry still looked skeptical, and Lupin admitted, "And part of it is his real personality. He does not suffer fools gladly, and he can hold a grudge till Judgment Day, but he has his good points, too." Lupin smiled nostalgically. "When we were in school, I was impressed by his passion for knowledge and his sharp Slytherin wit. And I loved the way he would always swirl his robes around him whenever he wanted to make a dramatic exit." 

The children looked at him as if he had lost his mind, and he laughed. "Well, it's a bit hard to explain; Sirius and the others never understood either, no matter how many times I tried to explain it to them. Maybe it was because Severus let down his guard with me, and let me see a side of him that no one else saw. We both felt a little lonely and out of place at Hogwarts, I think, for different reasons...perhaps our pain drew us to each other."

The children were silent for a long moment, then Harry finally asked, "If he hated you all those years because he thought you were in on the prank, what finally changed his mind?"

Lupin paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "I thought he hated me, which he did, but he also still loved me at the same time. If I had known that, I would never have let him go so easily." Lupin's blue eyes looked sad and haunted. "But I began to suspect, when I began corresponding with Naoto Kamiyama, the creator of the Wolfsbane Potion, and he told me that he had an anonymous collaborator who worked at Hogwarts. I knew Severus was the only person at Hogwarts capable of making such a potion. Even so, he could not let go of his anger towards me when I began teaching there, until one day near the full moon I grew very sick and almost fainted in his presence." Lupin smiled tenderly. "That was, you might say, the turning point. His concern for me overrode his anger. But we kept up the pretense of being enemies, so that his cover wouldn't be exposed."

"And when he got you fired?" Harry prompted.

Lupin sighed, pushing his hair back from his face. "Well, he didn't exactly get me fired...I resigned. But I know what you mean, Harry. He has always hated Sirius, especially after that prank, and he believed that I had betrayed him by helping Sirius."

"How could you forgive him?" Ron demanded.

"Because I love him," Lupin said softly. "And because he was genuinely remorseful about it. He acted rashly, but I know how badly Sirius hurt him, hurt us both, when he broke us up by sending Severus to the Shrieking Shack. And because I know I hurt him too, even though I didn't mean to, even though it was for a good cause, to save an old friend from a wrongful imprisonment. We forgave each other. That is what it means to love someone, Ron. People only live happily-ever-after in fairy tales. In real life, even people who love each other very much will have arguments, and hurt each other on occasion. But if you truly love them, you don't keep score of your grievances. Surely you have argued with your siblings and your friends from time to time, but you still love them, don't you?"

"None of them ever did anything that bad to me," Ron started to protest, but Hermione interrupted.

"Don't you remember how you and Harry had that stupid fight over how you wouldn't believe that he didn't put his name into the Goblet of Fire?" she asked impatiently. "But he forgave you, even though you basically called him a liar. He didn't even make you apologize." Ron turned red.

"And I heard how many of your friends and classmates thought you were lying or crazy when you said Voldemort had returned after the Tournament," Lupin said quietly to Harry. "But in time they realized the truth, and you forgave them."

"I suppose," Harry muttered.

"Well," Lupin sighed, "you don't have to like Severus. I suppose very few of his students do." Despite his words, he looked a little disappointed, and Harry somehow felt guilty although he wasn't sure exactly why. "But try to keep in mind that there is more to Severus than meets the eye, and that he is a man of honor. He has risked his life to spy on the Death Eaters, both now and in the past. And however badly he treats you, Harry, however much he hated your father, he has still worked very hard to protect you because of the debt he feels he owes to James--and because, however little he shows it, he cares about his students. He would never let harm befall a child in his care if he could prevent it."

The four children stared dubiously at each other for a moment, then Hermione said, "Well, he did stop Crabbe from choking Neville to death when we were all being held in Umbridge's office."

"Yeah, but he said it was because he didn't want to have to fill out 'a lot of tedious paperwork,'" Ron muttered.

"Yes, that sounds like Severus!" Lupin laughed. "He would die of embarrassment if anyone caught him performing a good deed for altruistic reasons!" In a more serious voice he said, "And don't forget that Severus helped to create the Wolfsbane Potion for me, and that he risked his own life to save Sirius, for my sake. Don't be fooled by that sinister act he puts on, because it is an act, and not the real man. He is bitter and cantankerous, but also brave, honorable, and loyal." Lupin smiled. "Try to keep that in mind, the next time he gives you detention or docks points from you in class, or says--" Lupin mimicked Snape's deep, threatening voice. "--'I swear I'll kill you for that!' Because he's said that to me many times, and he's never yet followed through on it! And I've never heard of any of his students mysteriously disappearing, either."

Lupin laughed, but Hermione noticed his eyes flicker briefly towards the stack of books on his desk, and she stood up and said, "Well, I'm sure you must have a lot of work to do, Professor. Thank you for taking the time to talk to us."

"Well, I do have many preparations to make before school starts," Lupin admitted. "But I am always happy to talk with you."

As they stood and prepared to leave, Harry said, "I'm really glad you're coming back to Hogwarts, Professor Lupin."

"We all are," Ginny said earnestly, and Ron and Hermione voiced their agreement as well.

"Thank you," Lupin said, smiling at them warmly. "I'm looking forward to teaching all of you again."

 

"Maybe Professor Snape will be nicer next term, since he'll be happy that Professor Lupin will be at school with him," Ginny said hopefully after they had left Lupin's room.

"Hah!" Ron snorted. "I wouldn't bet on it! He and Lupin were together the first year Lupin was teaching, don't forget, and he was as nasty as he's always been. I still don't understand why Lupin likes him, but as long as they aren't making out in the halls, I'll be happy!"

Ginny giggled. "Don't worry, it's supposed to be a secret. Besides, I'm sure they wouldn't want to traumatize any impressionable young students!"

"I feel plenty traumatized," Ron grumbled as Ginny and Hermione laughed at him. He and Harry exchanged a look of disgust and said, "Girls!"

*** 

Snape began working on the Mind Restoration Potion in the room he had claimed in the house as his workroom. Black had not raised any objections since he also used it to brew Lupin's Wolfsbane Potion. He was pleased when Branwen offered to help him, because the Mind Restoration Potion was incredibly tedious and difficult to brew: if the ingredients were not prepared properly, were added at the wrong time or in the wrong proportions, if the cauldron was not kept at just the right temperature, if the potion was stirred too much or too little--the slightest mistake would render the potion useless, wasting a great deal of money and weeks of work. Also, a few of the ingredients were poisonous if used in too great a quantity; not that Snape would care if he accidentally poisoned Gilbert Donner, but the Dark Lord would probably be upset with him...

"I appreciate the help, Branwen," Snape said. "It's a royal pain to brew, even worse than the Wolfsbane Potion. And while I don't mind putting in the effort for Lupin's sake, I do mind wasting my free time on the Donner brothers."

"Well, you have to do the actual brewing," Branwen replied, "but at least I can help you prepare the ingredients. I have a minor talent for Potions, but there are only a handful of wizards in the entire world who are able to make this potion, and you are one of them, Severus. I am very impressed; you have truly earned the title of Potions Master." Snape preened, looking pleased with himself. But his pleasure was short-lived, because Branwen added, "You know, you might consider having Hermione help you prepare the ingredients as well."

Snape scowled. "She's only a student. And we aren't supposed to be involving the children in Death Eater business."

"Well, you don't have to tell her what it's for," Branwen said. "And she's certainly capable enough. I've watched her work, and she's always very careful and precise. Besides, you had Dylan help you with it at Hogwarts, didn't you?"

"Yes," Snape said sullenly. "But Dylan knows when not to ask questions. Miss Granger and her friends suffer from an overabundance of curiosity and a severe lack of common sense."

"Well, it's your decision, of course," Branwen said indifferently. "But it would give you a little more free time for the Occlumency lessons, and of course more time to spend with Remus..." She kept up that casual demeanor, but there was just a hint of mischief in her green eyes. "You might also consider allowing her to assist us on the Wolfsbane Potion, since that is not a secret."

Snape didn't like the idea, but it was tempting, since every minute he spent with Lupin was precious to him. "I'll think about it," he growled, and Branwen didn't press him further.

*** 

One evening after dinner, Lupin and Sirius stayed behind in the kitchen to do the dishes, and Hermione saw Snape wander off to the drawing room alone. The other children gathered together in Harry's room to play a game of Exploding Snap, but Snape had been in a fairly good mood at dinner, and Hermione saw a rare opportunity to ask him some questions she'd had about the Advanced Potion Brewing textbook he and Lupin had given her for Christmas. She retrieved the book from her room, and found Snape sitting on the couch in the drawing room reading a book of his own.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"What is it?" he asked irritably.

"I have a question about the Prophecy Potion. It calls for belladonna, black hellebore, and henbane, but aren't those all poisonous?"

"We haven't covered that in class," Snape said, frowning and looking a little alarmed. "I hope you aren't thinking about experimenting with it! It's extremely dangerous, and can only be safely made by a very experienced potion brewer."

"I know," Hermione replied. "Don't worry, I would never do anything so foolish. But I was reading about it in the book you gave me for Christmas--" 

"It was Lupin's gift, not mine!" Snape snapped.

"Yes, all right, Professor Lupin's book," she said agreeably. "But I was reading about it, and I was curious, does this potion--and the other Divination-type potions in the book--really work? Professor Trelawney never mentioned them--"

"Professor Trelawney is a fraud," Snape said sourly.

"Well then, wouldn't she want to use potions like these to help her see real visions?" Hermione asked. "Or are these potions fraudulent, too? But you wouldn't have given me a book on fake potions--"

"I didn't give you the book, Lupin did!" Snape snapped again.

"Yes, but about the potions--"

"Oh, very well," Snape grumbled. "I see I'll get no peace until I explain it to you." Hermione very cautiously sat next to Snape on the couch as he muttered something about how Dumbledore ought to be paying him overtime. He took the book from her and opened it to the page that covered the Prophecy Potion. "You are right that belladonna, hellebore, and henbane are all poisonous in the wrong dosage," he said, in that haughty, didactic tone he used in his classroom as Hermione listened attentively. He seemed to find her attentiveness gratifying, or at least mollifying, and he relaxed a little as he continued to lecture, "That is why they should only be handled by an expert, or under the close supervision of an expert. If you will recall, hellebore was an ingredient that you used to brew the Draught of Peace in class last year."

"Yes, sir," Hermione murmured.

"Can you tell me the properties of hellebore, black hellebore in particular, Miss Granger?"

She obediently recited, "Black hellebore should be handled with extreme caution, as it is poisonous. In small doses, it can be used to treat nervous disorders and hysteria, and also acts as a purgative. In higher doses, though, it acts as a violent narcotic."

Snape almost--though not quite--smiled. "That is what these three herbs all have in common, Miss Granger, besides being deadly poisons: they are also all narcotics. Henbane in particular has long been associated with witchcraft and prophecy, but I suspect many of the 'visions' those who imbibe this potion see are more narcotic trances than true prophecy."

"Then the potion doesn't work?" Hermione asked.

"I didn't say that, Miss Granger," Snape said impatiently. "The purpose of the narcotics is to open up the imbiber's mind and make him or her more receptive to...er...the spiritual emanations or whatever it is that causes foresight and prophecy. Being too grounded in logic and the mundane details of our daily lives seems to work against the Divination process." Snape looked a little sour. "In general, I don't think too highly of Divination, but I have met a few--a very few--true Seers. This potion does seem to help someone who already has the gift more easily access their powers, or to awaken a latent talent that has not yet manifested, but I'm not convinced that it will work on someone who has no talent for Divination at all. The problem with prophetic visions in general is that they tend to be vague and difficult to interpret to begin with, and the problem with this potion in particular is that it is even more difficult to determine the difference between true visions and drug-induced dreams. Still, it is an interesting potion, and quite challenging to make." He flipped a few pages over in the book. "But see here, this recipe is also interesting. It is less potent, but also less dangerous."

Hermione looked down at the page he was pointing at and read the list of ingredients. "Bay leaves?" she asked, startled. "I thought those were only used in cooking."

"It's a relief to see that you don't know everything after all, Miss Granger," Snape said dryly, though without much venom, and Hermione blushed. "Yes, they are quite tasty in a stew, but they were also used by the priestesses of Apollo in ancient Greece to induce prophetic trance..."

 

Sirius was apparently in a generous mood, or perhaps Branwen had been lecturing him again, because he had seen Lupin shoot a wistful look at Snape as he walked off, and offered to finish the dishes alone. He was scowling a little, but seemed sincere, and Lupin wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He followed Severus to the drawing room, and to his surprise, found Hermione questioning him about a potion. Lupin watched from the doorway, smiling, as Severus tried to brush her off, then grumpily gave in and began explaining how the potion worked to Hermione. The irritation vanished from his voice as he got absorbed in his lecture, and Lupin grinned; it seemed that Severus's passion for knowledge overrode his grudge against Gryffindor, and besides, he didn't really hate Hermione as much as he liked to pretend. Severus bent over the book to point out something to Hermione, causing his sleek black hair (shiny, not greasy!) to fall forward over his shoulders, exposing a patch of white skin on the nape of his neck. Lupin growled softly, and before he knew what he was doing, he had glided forward, slipped his arms around Snape from behind, and gently planted his lips on that enticingly exposed spot of skin...

 

"LUPIN!" Snape shrieked, his head jerking up as the book went flying into the air and landed on the floor with a loud thump. Normally Hermione would have been upset to see a book be so abused, but she was staring wide-eyed as Lupin tightened his hold on Snape and began nuzzling his hair. "Dammit, Lupin," Snape said, trying to free himself from the werewolf's grip, "we had an agreement, remember?!"

"No," Lupin murmured, finding it difficult to think clearly. He sighed, pressing his face against the side of Snape's neck. The werewolf growled contentedly, inhaling the sharp but not unpleasant herbal scent that clung to his lover's robes.

"You promised not to molest me in public," Snape hissed through gritted teeth as his face turned red.

"I can't help it, Severus," Lupin said, gently nipping at Snape's neck. "Not when it's so close to the full moon, and you're sitting there looking so deliciously handsome..."

Hermione's eyes were bugging out; none of the texts she had read on werewolves had ever mentioned anything like this!

"Damn it, Lupin, not in front of the children!" Snape struggled to free himself, but Lupin was much stronger than he looked--one of the few benefits of his lycanthropy. Lupin growled in his ear, and there was a very feral look in his pale blue eyes. In desperation, Snape shouted, "BRANWEN!"

The sorceress came running into the room, asking anxiously, "What's wrong--?" Then she caught sight of the Potions master struggling with the over-amorous werewolf, and burst out laughing.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing," Snape said sourly. "But when you're done laughing, could you PLEASE get the wolf off of me before I decide to kill him?"

Still laughing, Branwen firmly grasped Lupin's arms and pulled him off of Snape; the werewolf whined in protest. "Behave yourself, Mr. Lupin! There are children--well, a child--present."

Lupin struggled a few moments longer before her words sunk in. He blinked and looked at Hermione, who was blushing deeply, looking both curious and embarrassed. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "The call of the moon seems to be especially strong this month."

Intellectual curiosity won out over embarrassment, and Hermione asked, "Is that really an effect of the full moon? The books I've read don't say anything about--"

"That is quite enough, Miss Granger!" Snape roared. "The mating habits of werewolves is not an accepted course of study at Hogwarts!"

Hermione quickly picked up her book and fled the room; it was obvious that Snape was no longer in any mood to teach her about potions, although she was now much more curious about Lupin's unusual behavior, which unfortunately Snape was even less likely to want to discuss...

"Upstairs, Mr. Lupin," Branwen ordered, and the werewolf obediently headed to his room.

"I think we may have improved the Wolfsbane Potion a little too much," Snape said darkly. "I may have to start adding a sedative to it at this rate!" Branwen began laughing again. "Laugh all you like, Branwen, but if he starts acting like this at Hogwarts, I swear I'll turn him into a rug!"

Branwen just smiled wickedly and said, "Well then, you had better keep him satisfied enough that he doesn't have to seek you out in public."

Snape turned beet-red, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, Branwen's laughter echoing behind him. _I should have known all along that she had demon blood!_ he thought to himself sourly.

"How do you expect to keep this a secret at Hogwarts if you can't control yourself?" Snape asked, glaring at Lupin as he entered their room.

"Sorry, Severus," Lupin said with a sheepish grin. "The wolf just kind of took over."

"If you don't behave yourself, I'm going to add a wolfskin rug to my office decor..."

Lupin didn't look the least bit intimidated. "It's all your fault, you know," he protested. "You just looked so enticing, with the nape of your neck exposed...you know how much I like that." He growled softly. "And you've been very busy lately," Lupin added, thrusting his lower lip out in a mock-pout. "The wolf has been feeling neglected. That is your duty, after all--to keep the beast under control."

"I suppose it is," Snape agreed, his anger, as always, melting away in the heat of desire. "But I'm going to make you pay for embarrassing me in front of the girl."

"Please do," Lupin purred, looking not one bit abashed. In fact, his eyes were bright and a little glassy, and he smiled, a feral and hungry grin, baring his teeth at Snape.

"Bad wolf," Snape scolded, but he couldn't stop his lips from curving up into a smile.

In response, Lupin tilted his head back, exposing his throat. "Then I submit to you, my pack leader," he murmured.

"Dammit, Lupin," Snape growled, licking his lips. "You know I can't resist you when you do that!" He took Lupin in his arms and bit down hard on the soft skin of Lupin's throat.

Lupin moaned wildly. "You know I can't resist YOU, when you do THAT!" he panted. He bared his teeth again in that wolfish grin that Snape loved so much...

Snape lost all semblance of control, shoving Lupin down on the bed and tearing at his robes; he had obligingly worn one of his old, thin, much-darned robes, and the cloth very satisfyingly gave way, and soon wound up in pieces on the floor. But at this rate, Lupin was soon going to run out of those old robes...well, he could always patch them back together again--but not too securely, of course. 

_Which one of you is the beast?_ Snape's inner voice asked in amusement, but Snape just laughed. He supposed that he had become nearly as much a slave to the full moon and the wolf as Lupin, but he really didn't care. He joyfully embraced his werewolf lover, willingly giving himself up to the beast (whichever one of them that might be), the moon, and desire...

*** 

Snape and Lupin missed breakfast the next morning because despite a pleasantly exhausting evening of lovemaking the night before, the wolf woke up "bright-eyed and bushy-tailed"--as Snape put it (although Lupin laughingly pointed out that the full moon wasn't till tomorrow night)--and feeling quite amorous. But finally Snape crawled out of bed and got dressed, pleading hunger, exhaustion, and the need to work on the Mind Restoration Potion.

"Don't go, Severus," Lupin murmured, as he came up behind Snape, slipping his arms around Snape's waist and nuzzling his neck.

"Cut that out, Lupin," Snape growled.

"Don't you like it?" Lupin pouted.

"Yes, I do, but the Mind Restoration Potion has to be tended at regular intervals. Besides, I've told you before, that I'm not as...ah...resilient...as a werewolf."

Lupin laughed affectionately. "I thought you were doing just fine!"

"Yes, but I do need some time to rest in-between," Snape said dryly. "I wonder if all werewolves are insatiable as you are?"

"I don't know, but I had better not catch you messing around with any other werewolves, not even for the sake of scientific curiosity!" Lupin said sternly, baring his teeth playfully at Snape. 

"I love it when you're jealous, Lupin," Snape purred.

"You had better not purr at me like that, Severus," Lupin warned, "or you'll never get out of this room!"

Snape hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly said, "Duty calls. I really do have to tend the potion soon, or it'll be ruined, and I'll have to start all over again."

"Very well," Lupin sighed. "But maybe after lunch...?"

"After lunch, I'm all yours," Snape promised, bowing over Lupin's hand and kissing his fingertips in a courtly manner.

"I like the sound of that," Lupin said, grinning wickedly, and Snape hastily left the room before his resolve could falter. It was then that he decided to follow Branwen's advice and let Granger help them with the potion. If she was going to pester him with annoying questions anyway, then he had might as well put her to work. Besides, if the wolf was going to be so demanding, then he needed every bit of spare time he could scrape together.

He went to the kitchen to get a bite to eat, and found the girl helping Branwen and Molly clean up after breakfast, and imperiously commandeered her services. She looked surprised, but obediently followed him and Branwen to his workroom, while Molly watched them leave with a bemused look on her face.

Snape locked the workroom door behind them. Granger stared at him nervously while Branwen raised an eyebrow. Snape scowled and explained, "I don't want Lupin sneaking up on me again, especially when I'm working on the potion!" He certainly didn't relish the thought of explaining to the Dark Lord that the Mind Restoration Potion had been ruined because an over-amorous werewolf had startled him while he was mixing it.

"As you wish, Severus," Branwen said calmly, although she seemed to be fighting back a smile. Bane, sitting in his usual perch on her shoulder, cawed loudly. 

Snape glared at the raven; he could swear the damn bird was laughing at him. "And make sure that bird stays out of our way!" he snapped. Bane cawed indignantly, but Branwen whispered something to him, and he sullenly flew off and settled down on top of a shelf in the corner of the room.

"You will assist Professor Blackmore in preparing these ingredients," Snape said to Granger in his usual curt voice. "You will follow our instructions, precisely and to the letter, because the potion will be useless if the ingredients are not prepared properly, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Granger said obediently. "What potion are we making?"

"That's none of your concern, Miss Granger," Snape snapped. "You will merely do as you are told, and you are not to gossip about your work here with anyone, is that clear?" 

"Yes, sir," Granger repeated.

 

If Snape had been thinking more clearly, he might have phrased his words more carefully, but he was still slightly distracted by thoughts of Lupin. If he had ordered Hermione not to speak about the potion at all to anyone, she would have obeyed, however much she wanted to discuss it with her friends. But to Hermione there was a difference between "gossip"--frivolous talk, spreading rumors for the sake of mere entertainment--and a serious discussion about life-and-death matters that affected her and her friends personally...

Branwen could almost see the wheels turning in the girl's mind, but she merely smiled, and said nothing to Severus.

*** 

The next day, Snape was kept busy tending the potion and his werewolf lover. He was supposed to give Potter another lesson, but decided to postpone it until after the full moon had passed. He spent the entire day either in the workroom or in Lupin's bedroom, forbidding his lover to leave the room even for meals; he brought up trays of food from the kitchen for them. He was absolutely not going to give Lupin another chance to molest him in front of the children again. However, as the sun was beginning to set, the Mark on his arm began to burn--he had been summoned by Voldemort.

"So soon after the last meeting?" Lupin asked anxiously. "Severus, this could be dangerous--"

"It would be more dangerous to ignore his summons," Snape said grimly. "I'm sorry, Remus, to have to leave you on the night of the full moon--"

"I'll be fine," Lupin said. "I'm more worried about you. Please be careful, my love."

In spite of his apprehensions, and the somber mood that had fallen over them, Snape smiled at the words "my love"; it still seemed like a miracle to him that Lupin actually loved him. "I will," he said, giving Lupin a quick kiss. "The potion's been working fine for two years, so there shouldn't be any problem with the transformation, but Branwen is here in case--"

"I'll be fine, Severus," Lupin repeated firmly. "Go, before he grows angry with you for being late. But--" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Come back to me, Severus."

"I will, Remus," Snape said softly. "I love you. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I love you, too, Severus," Lupin said, and Snape left.

*** 

To his infinite relief, Voldemort had not summoned him for punishment, or because he had found out Snape was a traitor. Bellatrix Lestrange was badly wounded--she was almost white with blood loss, and covered with numerous deep, bleeding scratches and puncture wounds. _Bites and claw marks?_ Snape wondered. The potion Snape was making called for some rare and dangerous-to-obtain ingredients, such as dragon scales or blood, and the potions that the Dark Lord himself sometimes experimented with called for even stranger substances. Perhaps Bellatrix had been gathering potion ingredients for their Master, but it didn't really matter, at least not to Snape.

"Should I return home and bring some healing potions, my Lord?" Snape asked. 

"I've given her what we had on hand," Voldemort said. "She needs something more." He frowned down at the wounded Death Eater, looking very angry, and Snape was grateful that the Dark Lord's anger was not directed at him. "Not that her life is worth saving," Voldemort sneered, " but I am rather short of followers right now..."

"Please, Master," Bellatrix whispered.

"What would you like me to do, my Lord?" Snape asked.

"Cast a Sanguis Sanatio spell to heal her," Voldemort replied. "You did it once before, with great success, to save Bellatrix's husband, ironically enough."

Snape bowed his head to hide his surprise, and said obediently, "Yes, my Lord." He quickly squelched the brief surge of fear he felt; could it really be a coincidence that Voldemort was ordering him to perform the same spell he had so recently cast to save Sirius Black? But now was not the time to think about that, nor could he stop to think about the time he had been forced to drain a Muggle captive's life-force in order to save Rodolphus Lestrange. Snape let his emotions drain out of him, and looked up at his Lord through cold, black eyes, the very picture of a loyal and ruthless Death Eater. "Who will be the sacrificial victim?" he asked indifferently, as if it were of no more importance to him than deciding whether to have bacon or eggs for breakfast.

Voldemort grinned, and the assembled Death Eaters cringed in terror, for this time there were no Muggle captives present. The Dark Lord let his crimson eyes rest briefly on each black-robed figure, then sighed and said, "Unfortunately, I can't afford to spare any of them. Take a little from each of them, and we shall hope that will be sufficient to restore Bellatrix."

As far as Snape knew, no one had ever attempted such a thing, and he wasn't sure if it would work, but he was not stupid enough to express such doubts to the Dark Lord. "Yes, Master," he said, projecting an air of confidence. "Who will be first?"

No one looked eager to step forward, but finally one figure did, pulling up the sleeve of his robe as he knelt down beside Snape and Bellatrix. Snape looked briefly into the Death Eater's eyes, which were all that were visible behind his mask; it was Rabastan Lestrange, Bellatrix's brother-in-law, and the only one of her comrades apart from her husband--who was presently imprisoned in Azkaban--who might be willing to risk himself for her sake. Voldemort handed Snape a dagger, one with an ornate hilt carved in the shape of a serpent, and Snape made a shallow cut on Rabastan's wrist, lifted his wand, and said, "Sanguis Sanatio!" Rabastan's blood dripped into his sister-in-law's mouth, and she swallowed, eagerly and convulsively. Some of the bloody wounds on her body began to fade. When Rabastan began to turn pale, Snape broke off the spell and said, "Next!" The other Death Eaters were still hanging back reluctantly, and the healed wounds began to reopen. "Quickly!" snarled Snape.

Voldemort grabbed one of them at random and shoved him forward. The robed figure dropped to his knees beside Snape, whimpering pathetically. "Give me your arm," Snape said impatiently. Wormtail thrust forward his silver hand, and Snape snapped, "Your other arm, you dolt!" Still whimpering, Wormtail extended his left arm, and Snape slashed it across the wrist, more deeply than he had Lestrange's. Pettigrew screeched in pain, but Snape held his arm firmly in place over Bellatrix's mouth, and cast the spell. Vindictively, he let Wormtail bleed much longer than he had Rabastan, not so much because Peter Pettigrew had been one of his childhood enemies, but more because he couldn't stand the way the sniveling little coward kept whimpering and whining. Snape didn't like any of the Lestranges, but at least they weren't cowards. Finally, when Pettigrew was sheet-white and almost ready to faint, Snape broke off the spell and shoved him away. "Next!"

As Pettigrew crawled away, sobbing and moaning, Voldemort said sharply, "The next person who hesitates will offer up ALL of their blood for the spell, and not just some of it!"

After that, the remaining Death Eaters all but trampled each other in the rush to step forward, though one pair of gray eyes glared at Snape hatefully--Gwydion Donner, no doubt--and a second pair of gray eyes--Gilbert Donner--stared at him in terror. Snape wondered if Gilbert still thought his restored sanity was worth the price of joining the Death Eaters, or if his former dull-witted state now seemed like blissful oblivion. He quickly worked through the remaining Death Eaters; the final one was Narcissa Malfoy, whose eyes no longer looked proud and haughty, but frightened and almost humble. Although their ranks were much reduced, it seemed that the blood offerings of the remaining Death Eaters had been enough to save Bellatrix. She was not completely healed; there were still half-healed scratches on her skin, but they had scabbed over and stopped bleeding, and she was breathing evenly, some color restored to her pale face. 

"She will survive," Snape said coolly as he pocketed his wand, "but there might be some scarring."

"It will be a reminder of her foolishness and carelessness," Voldemort said, sounding satisfied rather than displeased, and Snape repressed a sigh of relief. "You did well, Severus," Voldemort said approvingly.

Snape bowed low. "Thank you, my Lord."

Voldemort dismissed all of the Death Eaters except for Snape, whom he asked to remain behind, and Bellatrix, who was in no condition to move. As Narcissa left, she whispered to Snape, "Please look after Draco at school."

"I will," he said quietly. "Let me know if you need anything." 

"Thank you," Narcissa whispered, in a tone of sincere gratitude that Snape had never heard her use before, and she Disapparated along with the others. He turned back to Voldemort and asked, "How may I serve you, my Lord?"

"Since I have used up our current supply of healing potions, I wish for you to make more."

"Yes, Master," Snape replied. "I have a good supply already on hand in my office at school. I can bring it over tonight, if you wish."

"That will not be necessary," Voldemort said dismissively, looking unconcerned. "You may owl it to me in the next day or two."

"Yes, Master."

"I would also like you to prepare some Sleeping Draught and Polyjuice Potion."

"As you wish, my Lord."

"Oh, and by the way, Severus, have you been in touch with young Mr. Rosier this summer?"

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said without hesitation. It was better not to lie, in case he had been spotted on the Donner estate, although he taken care to Apparate and Disapparate within the house, out of sight of prying eyes. "I have been writing to Ariane and Dylan, and I have stopped by the house a few times to visit the boy. But since your return was revealed, Mathias Donner has increased the protections on his estate, and has watched me carefully during my visits. He is suspicious, of course, knowing of my past, but suspicions are all he has, or he would never let me anywhere near his great-nephew."

"You know, of course, that Dylan is one of us now?" Voldemort asked in a casual voice, but his eyes were watching Snape carefully.

"Yes, my Lord," Snape replied calmly. "The boy informed me."

"You do not disapprove? I know you thought he was too young..."

"It is not my place to disapprove, my Lord," Snape said respectfully. 

"That is right," Voldemort said sternly, but he looked pleased. "And how is our young friend adapting to his new status?"

Again, Snape settled on a mixture of truth and falsehood for his reply. "He was very frightened at first, but I think I have been able to reassure him. It is easier, now that I no longer have to hide my status from the boy, or avoid talk about his father's Death Eater days. He idolizes his father, and is eager to prove himself to be as loyal and worthy as Evan." But he knew Voldemort would be suspicious if he portrayed Dylan as being too eager, so he added with a sly smile, "And he is quite anxious to protect his mother. He loves her very much; it is one of his few weaknesses." Voldemort already knew that, so revealing this fact would do no further harm. "He has remarkable self-control and ambition for so young a child." 

Voldemort looked very smug. "You see, he is not too young, after all!"

"Clearly I was wrong, my Lord," Snape said humbly; it was time to throw in some flattery. "I bow to your greater wisdom, Master," and literally bowed low to the Dark Lord.

"What a silver tongue you have developed, Severus," Voldemort laughed, but again, he looked pleased. "Do you think it will be possible to smuggle Mr. Rosier off the estate during the summer?"

Snape hesitated. "It would be very difficult, my Lord," he said carefully. "But if you command it, I will find a way to do it."

Voldemort gave him an approving look. "No whining, no protests that it cannot be done--very refreshing; that is what I like about you, Severus." Snape bowed again. "But I think that will not be necessary," Voldemort decided, after thinking over the matter for a few moments. "No point in arousing his great-uncle's suspicions; the boy will once again be under your control at Hogwarts in less than two months, after all."

"As you wish, my Lord," Snape murmured, being careful to show none of the relief he felt.

"That is all, Severus. You may go."

Snape bowed and Disapparated.

*** 

The children, along with Sirius and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, had just sat down to dinner, when a plaintive howl echoed through the house. It was a very eerie and haunting sound.

"What was that?!" Ron asked, dropping his fork.

"That was Remus," Sirius said, with a look of concern on his face.

"Tonight is the full moon," Hermione pointed out. 

"Yeah, but I thought the Wolfsbane Potion was supposed to keep his mind human," Harry said anxiously. "It's not normal for him to howl like that, is it, Sirius?"

Hermione exchanged a look with Ginny. She had told Ginny about how "the call of the moon" had affected Lupin in the drawing room last night, but had not mentioned it to the boys since they insisted on acting so squeamish and immature about Lupin's and Snape's relationship.

"No," Sirius answered Harry, frowning, and rose from his seat. "I'd better go check on him."

Mrs. Weasley looked alarmed. "If he missed taking his potion, if he's not safe--" she started to say.

"Everything's fine," Blackmore said, walking into the dining room. "He's just lonely and worried, that's all. Severus was..." She hesitated, glancing at the children and then at Mrs. Weasley. "...called away," she finished.

"Was he summoned to a Death Eater meeting?" Harry asked.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, glaring at him. "I told you before, there are things you children do not need to know!"

"But Mum--" Ron started to protest, but Blackmore cut him off.

"Molly, like it or not, the children have already been exposed to danger, and likely will be again. Voldemort does not discriminate by age; he will show no mercy to them because of their youth. And they aren't stupid--they know that Severus is working as a spy, and that only a summons from the Dark Lord would have forced him to leave Remus's side on the night of the full moon." Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth but before she could speak, Blackmore turned to the children and said sternly, "And you need to understand that there are some things we cannot share with you, things that would put the lives of Order members in danger if they were revealed."

"We know how to keep a secret!" Ron said indignantly.

"I'm not saying you would reveal it on purpose," Blackmore replied. "But if the Dark Lord managed to break into Harry's mind, or if one of you were captured and tortured--"

"BRANWEN!" screamed Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley said nervously, "Now, now, Branwen, there's no need for that kind of talk around the children--"

"Yes, there is," she said firmly. "They need to understand the dangers and risks involved in working with the Order. You want to become part of the Order--well, it is time you learned that it is not all honor and glory, that there are risks and responsibilities involved as well."

The children had all turned pale. "We know that," Harry said quietly. "Especially after what happened in the Ministry. But...we are already involved. Voldemort's been after me ever since I started at Hogwarts."

"I know, Harry," Blackmore said in a more gentle voice. "And that is why your lessons at Hogwarts are so important; they will teach you how to protect yourselves. You cannot become full-fledged Order members until you are strong enough to defend yourselves against the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, and until you understand that each Order member may be called upon to sacrifice his or her life someday."

The children turned even paler, and Ron and Ginny stared at their parents in something close to horror, as the realization sank in that their parents were not just "Mum" and "Dad" but Order members who were risking their lives in the battle against Voldemort. Mr. Weasley had already nearly been killed last year by the giant snake, after all...

"Enough, Branwen, please," Mrs. Weasley whispered tearfully, as Mr. Weasley put an arm around her.

"I know you never sugarcoat your words, but you've made your point, Branwen," Sirius said quietly. Blackmore nodded and gave Mrs. Weasley an apologetic look, and sat down at the dinner table without another word. There was an awkward silence, but then Sirius cleared his throat and asked, "Maybe I should go upstairs and check on Remus?"

"I was going to stay with him," Blackmore said, "but he practically pushed me out of the room. I think he wants to be alone right now. But maybe after dinner you can take a plate up to him and see if he wants some company."

*** 

Lupin informed Branwen about Severus's summons, and she stayed with him as he transformed. She petted him in a comforting manner, and scratched behind his ears, but it just wasn't the same as having Severus with him. He threw back his head and howled mournfully before he could stop himself, then gave Branwen a sheepish look.

"I know you're worried, Remus," she said. "But hopefully Severus will be back soon. And I think he'll be safe; the Dark Lord still needs the Mind Restoration Potion we're working on, after all."

Lupin wasn't really reassured, but he appreciated the attempt, and gave her face a friendly swipe of his tongue. She laughed, and he butted his head against her, pushing her towards the door. Gratifyingly, she seemed to understand the wolf almost as well as Severus did. "Are you sure?" she asked. "You don't want me to stay with you?" There was no point in her missing dinner, and Lupin was going to fret no matter what, so he barked and nudged her towards the door again. "All right," she said, pausing to give him one last scratch behind the ears. "But come downstairs if you change your mind." She left, making sure to leave the door slightly ajar, since the wolf was unable to grasp a doorknob.

Lupin paced around his room in restless circles, his claws clicking softly against the floor. He fought back an urge to howl again, not wanting to scare the children. Severus had left a spare robe draped carelessly over a chair, and Lupin buried his nose in it and inhaled deeply, feeling a little comforted by his lover's scent. He grasped the hem of the robe firmly with his teeth, pulled it down to the floor, and curled up on it contentedly, like a puppy sleeping on a favorite blanket. He made little snuffling noises as he pressed his nose against the cloth here and there, picking up various scents--Severus's own scent, of course; the sweet scent of lavender; the sharp, unpleasant smell of aconite; the slightly pungent, spicy scent of rosemary; and a slightly acrid scent that made him sneeze--hellebore, better not inhale that too deeply! Lupin remembered Severus telling Hermione last night that it was a narcotic. He barked out a small laugh; Severus probably wouldn't be too happy to come home and find an intoxicated wolf in his room! 

Feeling much better, Lupin continued to snuffle along the length of the robe, and caught the scent of brown sugar and chocolate. He shoved his snout into a pocket, discovered a crumbling but still edible chocolate chip cookie, and happily munched on it. It was probably a treat for Bane that Severus had slipped into his pocket and forgotten about; the raven and the Potions Master seemed to have forged an odd friendship the day they had been left behind together when Lupin and Branwen had gone out to meet Harry at the station. Lupin's mouth dropped open in a grin. Bane and Severus were really quite similar when you thought about it: cloaked in black, they acted menacing, but were more bark than bite. 

Suddenly, Lupin's ears pricked up as he heard the front door open. He jumped up, shoved the door open with his front paws, and ran downstairs.

*** 

Harry and the others were just finishing dinner when they heard a loud thump, like something--or someone--falling to the floor, and then a loud shriek.

"That was Severus!" Molly exclaimed.

A moment later, they could hear the portrait of Mrs. Black screaming, "Filth, scum, traitors, and beasts--begone from the house of my fathers!"

Everyone ran down to the entrance hall, for once ignoring Mrs. Black as she screamed curses and insults at them. They found Snape lying flat on his back in the hall, struggling with a large brown wolf.

"Oh my God!" Ron shouted. "Lupin's attacking him!"

"Was there something wrong with the Wolfsbane Potion?" Harry asked, reaching for his wand, but Sirius grabbed his arm to stop him.

"He's in no danger," Sirius laughed. "Not unless you think Remus is going to tongue him to death."

The children looked closer, and saw that the wolf was not trying to bite Snape, as it had first appeared, but enthusiastically licking his face. Snape had grasped the ruff of the wolf's neck, and was trying to wrench Lupin's head away from his face, but without much success. "AARGH!" Snape howled. "Get off of me, you crazy wolf! Stop drooling on me!"

Although Sirius had made it clear that he disapproved of his friend's relationship with Snape, he seemed to find this scene vastly amusing, and doubled over with laughter. Blackmore was laughing also, and Mr. Weasley chuckled while his wife stared at her fellow Order members as if they had all gone mad.

"Damn it, Black, don't just stand there!" Snape snapped. "Make yourself useful! Argh!" He spluttered as Lupin's tongue swiped over his face again. "Get him off of me!"

"Are you saying you want help from me, Sevie?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Branwen!" Snape called, but his former teacher was too busy laughing to assist him or scold Sirius.

"Well, I suppose I do owe you one," Sirius conceded. "And I really hate being in your debt."

"Don't think this makes us even!" Snape said, glaring at him. "I hardly think--argh, stop that, Lupin!--that getting your best friend under control compares to my saving your worthless hide!"

Sirius grinned down at Snape. "Do you want my help or not? Most people would consider wrestling with a werewolf to be a very dangerous--"

"JUST GET HIM OFF OF ME!!!" Snape shrieked.

"Sirius!" Blackmore scolded weakly, still laughing.

"Oh, all right!" Sirius finally relented, and grabbed Lupin and tried to haul him off of Snape. However, that turned out to be more difficult than he thought it would, because the wolf was very strong, and was so relieved to see its mate home safe and sound, that it did not want to be budged from where it was lying on Snape's chest. Finally, he grabbed Lupin's tail and yanked hard on it.

Lupin yelped in pain, sat up abruptly, and turned to give Sirius a reproachful look. "I think your boyfriend would like to get up off the floor, Moony," Sirius said dryly.

Lupin looked down at Snape, who glared at the wolf and shouted, "Get off of me, you mangy, flea-bitten cur!"

Lupin gave Snape an apologetic and slightly sheepish look, licked his face one last time, then rolled off of his chest and allowed him to stand up. Snape wiped his face on his sleeve and glared down at Lupin, who barked happily and wagged his tail.

"HOW DARE YOU IGNORE ME?!" screamed Mrs. Black. "FILTH, SCUM, BY-PRODUCTS OF--"

"Dirt and vileness, yes, yes," Snape finished in a bored voice. "Not to mention half-breeds, mutants, freaks, perverts, and beasts." He stomped past the portrait, Lupin following close on his heels, still wagging his tail.

Ginny and Hermione walked past the portrait, ignoring Mrs. Black's screams as they giggled together. "Wasn't that cute?" Ginny laughed.

"I think it was disgusting!" Ron said, as he and Harry followed after the girls.

"So who asked you?" his sister retorted.

Blackmore was still laughing so hard that she could hardly walk. Sirius bowed and gallantly offered her his arm. "May I escort you back to the dining room, Milady?" She grinned and linked her arm through his, leaning on him slightly for support. "So, how many times do you think I have to save Snape from Remus before we're even?" Sirius asked, and Blackmore just continued laughing.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head and walked down the hall, muttering, "You'd think they could behave like adults and set a proper example for the children..."

"Oh, it's not all that bad, my dear," Mr. Weasley replied. "Look on the bright side, at least Severus and Sirius were cooperating for a change..."

"Hey!" Mrs. Black shouted. "HEY! COME BACK HERE! YOU CAN'T IGNORE...me..." Her voice trailed off into a disgruntled silence. She glared at the empty hallway, and the curtains swung shut over her portrait in a rather miffed manner.

*** 

Snape had intended to go up to their rooms, but the wolf caught the scent of food and headed for the dining room; now that he knew his mate was safe, Lupin discovered that he was starving. Snape reluctantly followed him, muttering something about "a wolfskin rug" under his breath.

Lupin jumped up, placing his front paws on the table as he sniffed eagerly at the remains of a joint of beef Molly had roasted for dinner. Ginny and Hermione giggled as Molly swatted Lupin's nose lightly with her apron and said, "Get down from there, Remus! I'll make you a plate." Lupin laid back his ears and sank to the floor, looking chastened, as the girls giggled again and Snape scowled at them. 

Molly sliced several thick slabs of meat for Lupin and set the plate on the floor. "For Merlin's sake!" Snape said indignantly. "You don't expect him to eat off the floor like a dog, do you?!" Molly flushed, and Snape bent down to reach for the plate, saying, "We'll eat upstairs--" He broke off mid-sentence, because apparently Lupin had no qualms about eating on the floor, and was hungrily devouring his meal. 

"You must be hungry, too, Severus," Molly said pleasantly, fixing him a plate, and Snape sullenly took a seat at the dining room table, glancing down to glare at the wolf every now and then.

Branwen said, "Well, there's really no need for him to hide in his room, since everyone knows he's a werewolf, and he's perfectly safe since he's been taking the Wolfsbane Potion all week." Snape turned his glare on her, and she smiled sweetly back at him.

Lupin licked his plate clean, then jumped up on the table again. "Damn it, Lupin, get off the table!" Snape snapped. "If you're hungry, all you have do is say so!" Lupin barked at him cheerfully, and lovingly swiped his tongue against Snape's face. "Cut that out!" Snape said, wiping his face on his sleeve. 

Sirius chuckled. "I think maybe he wants the bone?" he suggested, and Lupin barked, wagging his tail.

Most of the meat had been sliced off it, but there were still many juicy scraps clinging to the bone. Snape set the platter that held the bone and the remains of the roast beef on the floor, and the wolf began gnawing on it contentedly. Snape looked down at him sourly and muttered, "I think I need to talk to Kamiyama about altering the potion..."

Meanwhile, Molly served dessert--a rich chocolate cake with sour cream frosting, and Lupin looked up from his bone, sniffing the air with interest. "Isn't chocolate bad for dogs?" she asked, hesitating over whether or not to give Lupin a slice.

"He's a werewolf," Snape pointed out in a slightly testy voice. "They're almost impossible to kill by normal means; he isn't going to be poisoned by a little chocolate."

Which was just as well, because he was cadging handouts from the girls, who were feeding him scraps from their plates, giggling as he licked cake crumbs off their fingers. Ginny began scratching the wolf behind the ears, and Snape snarled, "He's not a pet dog, you silly girls!" But Lupin's mouth was hanging open in a canine grin, his eyes half-closed with pleasure, and his tail was thumping happily against the floor. "Traitor," Snape muttered under his breath, giving Lupin a dirty look, and he could have sworn that the wolf winked at him. 

Snape ate his dessert, glowering as the girls petted and cooed over the wolf as if he were indeed a pet dog. Branwen fed Bane half of her piece of cake; Molly didn't bother to express any concern over the raven, who seemed to have a cast-iron stomach. Having polished off his mistress's dessert, Bane hopped along the table and eyed Snape's plate hopefully. "Oh no, you don't," Snape growled, and Bane tried to look hungry and pathetic, without much success--Lupin was much better at it, judging by the way all four children were now slipping him bits of cake under the table. "And don't look at me like that! You're practically too fat to fly as it is, anyway!" Bane couldn't really make puppy-dog eyes the way Lupin did, so he settled for being annoying, and sat down in front of Snape, staring at him unblinkingly, until the Potions Master finally gave up and shoved his plate towards the bird. 

_Potions "Master," hah!_ Snape thought to himself peevishly. _I can't believe I'm letting myself be bossed around by a bird and an overgrown dog!_

Finally, after the last crumb of cake had disappeared, Lupin was content to follow Snape upstairs. Snape found his spare robe lying on the floor, and complained, "You've got fur all over my robes!" Lupin leaned against him lovingly, and proceeded to get fur all over the set of robes he was currently wearing as well. Snape heaved an exasperated sigh. "So now you want my company?" he asked dryly. "Are you sure you don't want to go back downstairs and beg doggie treats from the brats?"

Lupin just looked up at him, his blue eyes filled with amusement, and Snape could almost hear him thinking, _You don't have to be jealous, you silly git!_ As if to reassure Snape of his love, Lupin jumped up, placing his front paws on Snape's chest, and licked Snape's face affectionately. 

"Stop that!" Snape said, but he couldn't completely hold back his smile. "That's how you knocked me over the first time!" For a change, Lupin listened to him, and dropped back to the floor. Snape decided that he ought to encourage that obedience, and reached down to scratch the wolf behind the ears, although he grumbled good-naturedly, "If you don't behave yourself, next month I'll put you on a leash!"

The wolf licked his hand, and attempted to look contrite, but Snape doubted that his threat had made much of an impression. "Well, why should you listen to me?" Snape sighed. "No one else in this house does." He sat down on the bed, and the wolf jumped up beside him and flopped down in his lap. Snape sighed again, this time with contentment, and stroked the wolf, running his hands through its thick, soft fur. 

This was what he liked most about the nights of the full moon: being alone with Lupin, and knowing how much the wolf loved him and depended on him. It had become a habit, almost a ritual, a special moment shared only between the two of them. That was why he had been so put out earlier; not because Lupin had embarrassed him in front of everyone--again--but because he didn't want to share this moment, this night, with anyone. Well, to be honest, he hated sharing Lupin with anyone, period. As if sensing his thoughts, the wolf looked up and gazed at him tenderly, then gave his face a gentle swipe with its tongue. Snape laid his face against the top of the wolf's head for a moment, feeling warm fur beneath his cheek, and murmured in a barely audible whisper, "I love you, Remus." 

The wolf's ears twitched; Lupin, like all canines, had excellent hearing. He could not reply in his present form, of course, so he settled for giving Snape's face another gentle lick.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lupin receives a letter with a mysterious warning, and Sirius finally begins to grow up; Branwen finds a replacement for Kreacher; and Lupin returns to teach at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hob comes from the series of Hob books written by William Mayne. I really loved them when I was a kid, and when I read the HP books, the house-elves reminded me a bit of Hob, only more fawning and servile.

Snape woke up the next morning, feeling Lupin's warm, human body pressed up against his, and his hand reached out and touched silky hair rather than fur. "Good morning, Severus," Lupin said, smiling at him sleepily. 

"Good morning, Remus," Snape replied, appreciatively watching Lupin's lithe body as the werewolf yawned and stretched. "I hope you intend to behave yourself today," Snape said, striving--with rather limited success--for a stern tone of voice; it was difficult to sound angry when Lupin was lying next to him looking so beautiful. "The full moon has passed, so you can't blame your behavior on the wolf." Lupin just gave him a mischievous grin and licked his face. "LUPIN!"

"Sorry, Severus," Lupin giggled. "I couldn't resist." He loved teasing the Potions Master, and he especially loved that he was the only one allowed to get away with doing so.

Snape glared at him blackly, and mumbled under his breath; only about half of his words were audible: "Incorrigible beast...keep you on a leash...wolfskin rug..."

Lupin just laughed and nuzzled Snape affectionately, saying "Don't be so grumpy, Severus."

Snape ignored him, grumbling, "I'm going to have to talk to Kamiyama about changing the potion; it seems to be having some unforeseen side-effects--"

"There's nothing wrong with the potion, Severus," Lupin said, looking more serious now.

"Then why were you acting so wolfish last night?" Snape complained. "No--'wolfish' is the wrong word; you were behaving more like a pet dog! Honestly, Lupin, begging for scraps at the table and letting the children pet you--"

Lupin interrupted his tirade in a quiet voice. "I was a little silly and giddy last night," he admitted. "Partly because I was relieved to see that you were all right, but also..." He hesitated, and Snape ceased his grumbling and fell silent, waiting patiently for Lupin to continue. "All my life, I've hidden away during the full moon," Lupin finally said. "Even after I started taking the Wolfsbane Potion, and was no longer a danger to anyone, even after everyone knew I was a werewolf, I always spent the night of the full moon locked up in my cottage or in my room, letting no one but you or Sirius or Branwen see me. Last night was a great relief--Molly and Arthur and the children saw me in my beast form, but they didn't care. I didn't frighten or disgust them. You don't know how good that felt, Severus, to be able to be with people in my wolf form, and not have them scorn or fear me."

Whatever lingering irritation Snape might have felt instantly dissipated, replaced by a sense of mingled tenderness, disappointment, and guilt. He knew how much Lupin had feared and loathed the beast within, so he should be happy that Lupin had found friends who loved and accepted him for who he was. But he also felt a little disappointed--he had always felt smugly superior to those narrow-minded bigots who scorned Lupin for his lycanthropy, but at the same time he had secretly been grateful for their prejudice. It had made him feel special, to be the only one who was willing and able to accept, even embrace, Lupin's inner wolf, to be the only one that Lupin was able to trust and depend on. Lupin's fear and loneliness had served to bind them closer together, and now he felt a little resentful that he was no longer quite as special, no longer the only person that the wolf could trust. And then of course he felt guilty, for having such selfish and petty thoughts...

Lupin saw conflicting emotions fighting for dominance on his lover's face. "What are you thinking, Severus?" he murmured, reaching out to caress Snape's cheek.

Snape caught Lupin's hand as it touched his cheek, and held it in place, closing his eyes for a moment as he leaned into the caress. "I'm thinking that I'm a little jealous," he confessed, looking shamefaced. "I always liked spending the nights of the full moon alone with you, just the two of us. It made me feel...well...special, somehow..."

"Oh, Severus," Lupin said tenderly. "You _are_ special to me! You created the Wolfsbane Potion for me, and made it possible for me to safely be around people in my wolf form. You loved me--all of me, including the part of me that I had always feared and hated. Many people tolerate me in spite of my lycanthropy, but you were the first one who didn't just tolerate the wolf, but embraced it. You healed me, Severus; you made me whole." He leaned in close, close enough so that Snape could feel Lupin's breath on his face. "I love you, Severus," Lupin whispered. "The wolf loves you. You will always be first in my heart. You will always, always, be special to me."

Snape breathed a small sigh of relief, feeling the guilt and resentment draining away. "I love you, too, Remus," he whispered back, then grinned. "Both of you, the man and the wolf." Lupin grinned back at him, exposing his sharp canines. He playfully licked Snape's cheek in wolfish fashion, then kissed him gently on the mouth, a long and lingering kiss. Snape put his arms around Lupin and pulled him closer, returning the kiss, which quickly turned heated and a little less gentle. 

They did not make it downstairs in time for breakfast.

*** 

"So what's this secret project you've been working on with Snape and Blackmore?" Harry asked Hermione one night when all the children had gathered together in his room.

Ron made a face. "Working with Snape during summer vacation! That's even worse than detention!"

"I don't mind," Hermione said cheerfully. "It's quite interesting, really."

"But do you have any idea what the potion is for?" Ginny asked impatiently. "Why's it such a big secret?"

"Well, I've been forbidden to 'gossip' about it," Hermione said, "so we can't discuss it outside of this room--"

"Gee, that's too bad, I was planning to owl Malfoy with the information," Ron said sarcastically. "Come on, Hermione, you know we can keep a secret!"

"I don't know what it is, exactly, but I can make an educated guess, judging from the ingredients," Hermione said. "He's had me chopping up ginger, and I saw him add armadillo bile to the cauldron--"

"Those are ingredients for the Wit-Sharpening Potion!" Ginny exclaimed. "We worked on it in class last term."

"But why would that be such a big secret?" Harry asked dubiously. 

"It's not a Wit-Sharpening Potion," Hermione said, a little smugly. "But you're not far off."  "Can't you just tell us?" Ron grumbled, but he knew she was going to stretch out her story for the sake of suspense, or perhaps just because she enjoyed lecturing. _She would probably make a good teacher,_ Ron thought darkly. _It's no wonder she's gotten so chummy with Snape and Blackmore recently!_

"But he also had me dicing black hellebore roots," Hermione continued, "and that's not an ingredient for the Wit-Sharpening Potion."

"We used hellebore in the Draught of Peace," Harry muttered, still remembering how he had ruined his potion by forgetting to add that particular ingredient. "Isn't that supposed to be poisonous in the wrong dosage?" The thought had occurred to him more than once over the years, that perhaps Snape was trying to poison his students...

"It's a narcotic," Hermione said in a didactic tone, "sometimes used to treat nervous disorders. We've also been distilling oil from rosemary flowers and leaves."

"Um," Ginny said, her forehead furrowing in thought, "the properties of rosemary are...let's see...I think I read that it was used in love potions, but of course we aren't allowed to make those at Hogwarts..."

"That's because rosemary is a symbol of fidelity," Hermione said, "but it's also supposed to improve one's memory."

"So Snape's making some kind of memory potion?" Harry guessed.

Hermione just smiled smugly and continued, "I've also been chopping up ginseng, which increases alertness and reduces stress, and valerian roots. And I saw Snape add dried primrose petals to the potion.

Harry thought hard; it had not been that long since he had studied for his O.W.L.s. "Primrose and valerian are healing herbs, right?"

"Right!" Hermione said, grinning at him approvingly. "I've also been grinding coriander seeds and dried lavender leaves..."

"Isn't coriander just a cooking spice?" Ginny asked.

"It's used in certain healing potions," Hermione replied, "particularly ones that treat mental disorders. And lavender can be used to treat hysteria."

"So is it a memory potion or a healing potion?" Ron asked impatiently.

"Both," Hermione said, looking very pleased with herself. "But not just any simple healing potion! Snape's been very adamant that the ingredients have to be prepared just so, or the whole potion will be ruined. And it's not only herbs that we've been preparing; Blackmore has been grinding up gemstones to put in the potion: chrysolite, pearls, amber, moonstones, amethyst, jade--"

"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Ron as Ginny's eyes went round with amazement. "That's some expensive potion!" 

Harry remembered the essay he had done for Snape on the properties of moonstones. There were several different things the gem could be used for, but one in particular stood out, keeping in mind what most of the herbs Hermione had named had in common. "Moonstones provide mental clarity," he said slowly.

"Exactly!" Hermione said, giving him another approving smile; Harry half-expected her to award points to Gryffindor. "So does amber. Pearls are believed to increase wisdom, and chrysolite is supposed to cure insanity. The properties of amethyst and jade include restoring calmness and balance to the mind--"

"Dammit, Hermione!" Ron finally shouted in frustration. "Will you just get to the point and tell us what the potion is?!"

Hermione gave him a slightly offended look, then sighed and said, "Oh, all right!" She took out the fat, leather-bound textbook Snape and Lupin had given her for Christmas. She opened it to a page near the end of the book and pointed to it. Her friends gathered around, reading over her shoulder.

"Mind Restoration Potion?" Harry asked. "I've never heard of such a thing!"

"Nor I, till I read this book," Hermione said. "But that's not surprising, because it's very difficult to make. Only a Master-class potion brewer--like Snape--is capable of making this potion. It takes over a month to brew, and very precise instructions have to be followed every step of the way, or the potion will be ruined. Not only that, but it's very expensive to make--"

"No kidding," muttered Ron, "with all those gemstones it calls for."

"--and some of the ingredients are very rare and difficult to obtain. The herbs and gems can be purchased easily enough, providing you have sufficient funds, but it also calls for things like Jobberknoll feathers--"

"Used in Memory Potions and Truth Serums," Ginny said thoughtfully.

"--and the blood or scales of a Chinese Liondragon."

"Why does it have to be a Chinese dragon?" Harry asked curiously.

"Well, the book doesn't say," Hermione replied. "But in Asian folklore, dragons are renowned for their wisdom. There are a few even weirder ingredients listed, but you get the picture. All the ingredients have something to do with memory, wisdom, intelligence, or healing--particularly mental healing. I haven't seen Snape add the feathers or the dragon's blood to the potion yet, but he has some in jars in his workroom, and they're not supposed to be added till the later stages of the potion-brewing, anyway."

"So what exactly does this potion do?" Ron asked, peering more closely at the book.

"It heals magical damage inflicted on the mind," Hermione answered. "Like the Memory Charm that backfired on Professor Lockhart."

"Then why didn't they use it on him at St. Mungo's?" Ron asked. "Surely he could afford to pay for it, even if it is expensive."

"Because the effect is only temporary," Hermione explained patiently. "And not many people are willing to go through the time, expense, and effort of making the potion for a temporary cure."

"So why would Snape be making this potion?" Harry wondered out loud, frowning thoughtfully. "And why does it have to be a secret? Is it something that he's doing for the Order, or something that he's doing for the Death Eaters?"

"Neville's parents are in St. Mungo's," Hermione said. "I've been wondering if this potion is for them..."

Ron snorted. "Like Snape would go out of his way to help Neville!"

"Not to help Neville, no," Hermione agreed calmly. "But if the Longbottoms had information the Order could use, Dumbledore might have ordered him to make it."

"Hmm," said Harry, thinking it over for a minute. "Maybe. But the Longbottoms have been out of commission for years; why is it suddenly so important to cure them now? No, I think maybe it's something to do with the Death Eaters."

"Why would You-Know-Who want Snape to brew a healing potion?" Ron asked incredulously. "I would think he'd be more likely to have Snape make him some poisons!"

"Maybe one of the Death Eaters got injured in the battle at the Ministry," Ginny suggested.

"I hadn't thought of that," Ron admitted. "Could be. And some of those Death Eaters are probably a bit balmy after spending so many years in Azkaban with the Dementors sucking out their memories."

"Sirius was in Azkaban, too, and he's fine," Harry said defensively.

"Yes, but he wasn't affected in quite the same way," Hermione said soothingly, "probably because he was innocent."

"And Sirius was acting a little unhinged last year," Ron muttered under his breath. 

"He's not crazy!" snapped Harry, glaring at his friend. "He was just frustrated, from being cooped up in the house all the time!"

"Yeah, that would probably drive anyone a bit batty," Ron hastily said in an apologetic tone. "I'd go nuts myself with Mrs. Black's portrait screaming at me all day!"

"Anyway, Sirius seems fine now that his name has been cleared and he can walk around freely," Hermione added, trying to avoid an argument between the two friends. Harry did tend to be a bit touchy and protective about Sirius...

"That's right," Harry said firmly, but his anger faded at the reminder that his godfather was finally a free man, and he smiled. 

"I'm impressed, Hermione," Ginny said, changing the subject, "that you were able to figure out what the potion was from the type of ingredients you were preparing."

Hermione grinned, looking flattered. "Well, it is a long and very unusual list of ingredients," she said modestly. "It's ironic, because I never would have been able to figure it out if Snape hadn't given me this book!" She turned to Harry and Ron, saying, "I can loan it to you, if you like."

"Study?" Ron asked in disbelief. "During the summer?!"

"I'm sure you can handle that book, Hermione,"Harry said dubiously. "But it's a little advanced for Ron and me."

"That's why you should start studying now," she replied, giving each of them a stern look. "You both applied to Professor Snape's N.E.W.T. class, didn't you? You're going to have to study hard if you want to keep up. You didn't do too well in Potions last year, and his advanced class is even harder..."

Ron groaned. "I can't believe I let you talk me into it, Harry! We could have stopped taking Potions after fifth year!"

"It's required for an Auror," Harry said with grim determination. "And I'm going to become an Auror and fight Voldemort even if it means taking classes from Snape!"

"Snape hates us," Ron muttered, then added almost hopefully, "He'll never let us into his N.E.W.T. class!"

"You managed to get decent scores on your O.W.L.s, so I think he will," Hermione said, and Ron's face fell. "Besides, haven't you figured out by now that Snape does whatever Dumbledore tells him to? He's never flunked you, Harry, no matter how much he threatened to, not even when we helped Sirius escape in third year. And he's still giving you Occlumency lessons, isn't he? Besides, like Lupin says, I don't think Snape is as mean as he likes to pretend."

"Yeah, right," Ron snorted.

Hermione just smiled, remembering how Snape had told her the real reason why Dylan had broken off their friendship.

"And why are you grinning like a Cheshire cat?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"It's a secret," she said loftily. "Anyway, Professor Snape isn't so bad when he's working. He's really taught me a lot about Potions, and he's not as rude when Professor Blackmore's around. And when he gets caught up in his work, sometimes he even forgets to be grumpy."

"That I'd like to see," Harry muttered skeptically.

"Well, you could ask if he'd allow you to assist, or just watch us brew the potion," Hermione suggested helpfully. "Or maybe just ask him to give you some extra tutoring--"

"No!" Harry shouted. "No more extra lessons with Snape! The Occlumency lessons are bad enough!"

"Fine," Hermione sighed. "But just remember, if you want to become an Auror, you have to pass Snape's class next year..."

"Let me borrow your book, then," Harry said reluctantly. "I'll study over the summer, but I'm not taking anymore extra lessons from Snape!"

"Boy, I can hardly wait to start school..." Ron grumbled.

*** 

Snape had just given his report at the latest Order meeting, and an uneasy murmur rose up around the table.

"What on earth was Bellatrix doing?" Sirius muttered with a frown.

"And we know Dylan is important to his plans somehow," Lupin said thoughtfully. "But we still don't know why."

"I'm more worried about the potions he wants you to make," Shacklebolt said to Snape. "Sleeping Draught and Polyjuice Potion...that implies he's getting ready to break the prisoners out of Azkaban."

"Sleeping Draught to drug the guards," Tonks said musingly, "and Polyjuice Potion to disguise the Death Eaters, I suppose. Of course, some of us don't need disguises..." 

She changed her face to look like Lucius Malfoy's, and Snape said sharply, "Cut that out, Nymphadora!"

Tonks sighed and changed her face back to normal. Snape never called anyone but Branwen by their first name, so she supposed he was only doing it to annoy her. Probably he was still miffed about her walking in on him and Remus; it was certainly not out of any particular fondness for her. He had made it clear that he didn't like her--well, actually, he didn't seem to like anyone but Remus and possibly Branwen, but he had taken an active dislike to her for some reason. Probably because she was (a) a Gryffindor, and (b) related to Sirius Black. Snape had actually been one of her teachers at Hogwarts, although since she had been neither troublesome nor talented enough in Potions to warrant special attention, he had not singled her out for more abuse than he normally doled out to the average Gryffindor--except when her clumsiness occasionally caused her to knock over a cauldron or spill something in class. Then he had subjected her to a few terse but scathing remarks, but he had always addressed her as "Miss Tonks," even if in a rather scornful voice. It had been a bit intimidating, dealing with him as a member of the Order, but she had reminded herself that she was a full-fledged Auror, and that they were now adults and equals. She had not been quite sure at first how to address him, but finally settled on "Severus," since "Snape" seemed a bit rude, and "Professor Snape" a bit too servile, since she was no longer his student. Snape had given her a sour look the first time she called him by name, but had made no comment, and for the most part had ignored her up until now.

Well, she probably shouldn't provoke him; she had just been joking around, but she suddenly recalled how often people in the wizarding world referred to Snape as "Lucius Malfoy's lapdog," so she supposed that it was a bit of a touchy subject with him. "Sorry, Severus," she said aloud. "I was just trying to make the point that two can play at that game. If we could find out exactly when the breakout is, we could lay a trap for them, maybe switch places with the imprisoned Death Eaters...?"

Snape scowled at her. "The Dark Lord has said nothing to me about any breakout attempt, and you would likely only get yourself killed, anyway."

"Tonks is an Auror," Sirius snapped, his temper flaring. "She can take care of herself, Snape!"

"Yes, she can," Tonks said mildly. "I'm not a little girl anymore, Sirius; I don't need you to defend me." Her cousin looked a little hurt, so she added with a playful wink, "Not that it isn't nice to have a white knight ride to my rescue, but perhaps you should be exerting yourself on behalf of more eligible ladies, ones who aren't related to you!"

Sirius chuckled, and Snape muttered under his breath, "White knight, hah!"

Shacklebolt looked a little annoyed at their banter and sniping. "Well, we can't just sit back and let them escape!" he said impatiently. 

"If I learn more, I will of course notify you," Snape replied in an equally curt tone. "But if the Death Eaters find a group of Aurors lying in wait for them at their rescue attempt, the Dark Lord will probably be able to guess that I leaked out the information, and I'd rather not be on the receiving end of a Killing Curse."

"We can't let Severus's life be endangered!" Lupin said, looking alarmed.

"Then what should we do?" Shacklebolt asked in frustration.

"Gwydion Donner joined the Death Eaters reluctantly," Tonks said slowly, as an idea occurred to her. "He only joined up to get the potion for his brother, right? He's not exactly what you'd call loyal, and he's privy to the same information you are, Severus, maybe more, because he works at the Ministry. Maybe we can make it seem like Gwydion leaked out the information instead of you..."

Snape looked startled, then gave her a look of grudging respect and almost smiled. "Not bad," he conceded. "Very clever, in fact."

Lupin smiled with what Tonks recognized as relief and a fierce sense of protectiveness for his lover, but to those who didn't know about his relationship with Snape, that smile probably looked a bit vicious, because many of the Order members were staring at the usually gentle werewolf with a look of surprise on their faces.

"Won't that likely get Gwydion killed?" Dedalus Diggle asked nervously; he had been one of those who'd had a hard time believing Gwydion had really joined the Death Eaters.

"He's a Death Eater," Mad-Eye Moody said coldly. "He deserves whatever he gets." 

Snape gave the former Auror an irritated look; privately, he agreed that Gwydion Donner deserved no pity, but he didn't much care for the way Moody had phrased it, or for the way Moody had pointedly looked at Snape when he said it.

"We will do our best to avoid any unnecessary deaths on either side," Dumbledore said firmly, and Moody looked a bit disappointed. "But Severus's safety comes first. And Gwydion Donner isn't stupid; perhaps if he finds himself in danger, he'll come over to our side." Seeing Moody's skeptical look, he added, "If only to save himself, and his brother."

"If you say so," Moody muttered, and the meeting broke up soon after that.

Lupin noticed that Snape had a brooding look on his face, and quietly asked, "What's wrong, Severus?"

"Not here, Lupin," Snape said, his eyes darting towards the departing Order members, and they went upstairs to continue their conversation in private.

*** 

"What's bothering you, Severus?" Lupin asked again, when they were alone in their rooms.

"It bothers me that the Dark Lord had me perform the same spell that I used to save Black," Snape said, a hint of fear in his black eyes.

"But surely there's no way he could know," Lupin protested anxiously. "Is there some way he can tell what spells you have recently cast?"

Snape shook his head, frowning. "No, not without a Prior Incantato spell, and he's never touched my wand. I suppose it could simply be a coincidence, though I don't normally believe in such things..."

"Is there some reason why he would call on you in particular to perform a Blood Healing spell?" Lupin asked. "Can the other Death Eaters cast it?"

Snape thought it over, and said, "No, I don't think so," looking a little relieved. Perhaps it really had been a coincidence, after all. "It's a difficult spell to master, and it takes a very delicate touch not to kill the donor. He can't afford to sacrifice any of his Death Eaters right now, and there probably wasn't time to round up a Muggle or Muggle-born victim." Then the brooding look returned to Snape's face.

"What's wrong, Severus?" Lupin asked in concern. "You...you didn't have to kill anyone, did you?"

"Not this time," Snape said grimly.

"Wh-what do you mean, 'this time'?" stammered Lupin.

A look of guilt and shame crossed Snape's face, and he said quietly, "When I was a Death Eater, back in the old days, Evan used to say that I didn't like to get my hands dirty. My talents lay more in research and potion-brewing than combative magic, or at least, that's what I let the Dark Lord think. That way I could avoid going Muggle-hunting with the others, and I could tell myself that I hadn't actually killed anyone--even though they used my potions to poison people, even though they used the curses I taught them to kill and torture..."

"Severus," Lupin whispered, "you had to do those things, in order to keep them from suspecting you. Without the information you passed on to the Order, even more people would have died--"

Snape ignored him, continuing, "But I could convince myself that I had never harmed anyone directly. Until the day Rodolphus Lestrange was badly wounded in a battle with Aurors, and the Dark Lord ordered me to perform a Blood Healing spell to save his life. The Death Eaters had captured a Muggle, and they held him down while I cut his wrist and performed the spell. He screamed and struggled at first, but soon he was too weak to move." Snape's voice was low and hollow-sounding, almost emotionless, but Lupin could see the haunted look in his eyes. "Lestrange was very badly hurt, and I ended up draining nearly every drop of that man's blood to save him. I killed him, Lupin. Not Lestrange or Rosier or Malfoy, but me. It doesn't matter that he was a Muggle, whom I had been brought up to despise, or that the Dark Lord would probably have killed me if I had refused to cast the spell. I became a murderer." Snape smiled bitterly. "I got my hands dirty." Then his dark eyes turned fearful, and he asked in a subdued, slightly quavering voice, "Do...do you still love me, knowing what I have done...?"

"Of course, Severus!" Lupin cried, throwing his arms around Snape and holding him tightly. "I told you before, I will always love you, no matter what!" he said fiercely. "You did what you had to do, in order to survive!" Lupin looked up, a slightly wild and desperate look in his eyes. "I told you before, when you were feeling guilty about failing to save Rosier and Wilkes, that I would trade their lives, trade a hundred lives for yours! You are my mate, my love, and I can't bear to lose you, not even if it means sacrificing Gwydion Donner, not even if it means sacrificing the life of an innocent Muggle!" He laughed shakily, a sound that was closer to hysteria than mirth. "I suppose a proper Gryffindor would never say such things, would never sacrifice an innocent person, even to save someone they loved, but I don't want to be a proper Gryffindor if it means losing you!"

Lupin began to tremble violently, and Snape held him tightly, finding himself comforting Lupin instead of the other way around. His own feelings of guilt vanished as he stroked his lover's hair and back, and whispered, "It's all right, Remus, shh, love, it's all right..." His words didn't seem to matter so much as his tone of voice, and he kept up a stream of soothing patter until Lupin's trembling ceased. Snape's insecurities perpetually gnawed at him, making it hard for him to believe that Lupin really loved him, no matter how much Lupin assured him of that fact. But now he felt deeply touched and awed by what Lupin had just confessed to him. Remus Lupin was the very epitome of a noble Gryffindor, the kindest and least selfish person Snape had ever known. It was not in his nature to wish harm upon anyone, even his worst enemies, and he knew what it must have cost Lupin to admit that he would sacrifice an innocent to save Snape. 

And finally, Snape began to realize how much Lupin really did love him, and he felt ashamed for having caused Lupin pain, while at the same time he felt a sense of ecstatic joy. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops--"Lupin loves me!"--and laughed inwardly as he imagined his students and colleagues reacting to the sight of a giddy, infatuated Death Eater dancing for joy atop the roof of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Then he looked down at his lover, who still looked tearful and vulnerable, reminding him of the teenaged boy who had pleaded with a stubborn young Snape for understanding and forgiveness after the Shrieking Shack "prank," and suddenly giddiness gave way to tenderness and remorse. "I love you, Remy," he whispered, planting a gentle kiss on the top of Lupin's head.

Lupin's pale blue eyes widened, and he smiled through his tears. "Severus," he said in a voice hoarse with emotion, "you've only called me by that name twice before."

"I have?" Snape asked, slightly startled, and paused to think.

"The first time was in the Shrieking Shack," Lupin reminded him softly.

Snape looked even more startled. "You remember that? Even though you were in your wolf form, with no Wolfsbane Potion?"

"I remember the madness of the wolf," Lupin whispered. "And I remember the sound of your voice restoring me to sanity for just a moment. I will never forget those words: 'Please, Remy, please'."

Snape was stunned into silence; he had no idea what to say. He knew that Lupin had managed to overcome the wolf just long enough for James Potter to save his life, but he had not known that Lupin retained the memory of that moment, that Lupin still remembered the exact words that Snape had spoken.

"The second time," Lupin continued in that hoarse whisper, "was last summer, the night you returned from your first meeting with the Death Eaters."

That night was still a bit hazy in Snape's mind, but he recalled making love to Lupin on the floor of the werewolf's cottage, with no tenderness or gentleness on his own part, but only raw desire and a frantic need to banish the taint of the Death Eaters from his mind. And now he remembered how he had called Lupin's name--no, Lupin's childish nickname, "Remy"--over and over again. Snape gently reached out and touched Lupin's lower lip, remembering how he had kissed Lupin with such force that his lip had split open and bled, remembering how he had held Lupin so tightly that he had left bruises on his lover's body. But Lupin had not complained, and had simply held him, and comforted him, and loved him. "Remy," he whispered, and Lupin smiled, his blue eyes shining with joy even as they filled with tears once more.

"Why do you never call me by that name?" Lupin asked softly.

"I don't know," Snape replied, feeling a little puzzled. He wasn't sure why it seemed to be so important to Lupin, but apparently it was, so he thought about it carefully. "I suppose because that was what Potter, Black, and Pettigrew called you," he finally said. "It seemed to be something special that the four of you shared, like your other nickname, 'Moony'. I wanted to be that close to you, but I wasn't sure if I ever would be. And...I wasn't sure if I wanted to be." Lupin looked hurt, and Snape hastily added, "No, of course I wanted to be as close to you as Potter and the others were, but I was scared! Scared by how much I wanted you, scared that you would reject me, scared to love you and give you that much power over me."

"Yes, when we were children," Lupin replied patiently, and gently caressed Snape's cheek. "But now?"

Snape sighed, "Old habits die hard, I suppose. I know I'm not exactly the most romantic person in the world, and I know that sometimes I push you away when I don't really mean to, but I am trying to change, and I do love you, Remus--"

"I know you do, Severus," Lupin interrupted with a smile. "I love you, too."

"Do you want me to call you 'Remy'?" Snape asked.

"Yes," Lupin admitted with a sheepish little smile that Snape found quite endearing. "I'm not sure exactly why, but I do. It makes me feel closer to you, somehow."

Snape smiled back at him warmly, the smile that eased the lines on his face, the smile that Lupin loved because it was just for him. "All right, Lupin--I mean, Remy," he said, a little awkwardly, but Lupin was pleased by the effort he made. Then Snape's expression turned stern, but Lupin was not fooled. "But only in private," Snape warned. "I'm not going to go around calling you 'Remy' at Order meetings or at Hogwarts!"

"Well, 'Professor Remy' does have a certain ring to it!" Lupin giggled, and Snape rolled his eyes. "But yes, in private is fine."

Lupin was beaming at him as if he had just hung the moon, and Snape marveled at how little it took to please his lover. "Remy," he said, experimentally, and watched Lupin's smile grow even wider. 

"Have you ever had a nickname, Severus?" Lupin asked curiously.

Snape scowled. "You mean besides 'Snivellus' and 'Sevie'?" he asked sarcastically, referring to the names that Black had used--and occasionally still did--to annoy him as a student.

"Names that you liked, Severus," Lupin clarified, looking apologetic even though he had never called Snape by either of those insulting nicknames.

"Not really," Snape replied, frowning. "Malfoy used to call me 'Sev'--still does, actually--which I guess isn't really that bad, but he says it in such a condescending way that I can't stand it." He blinked and looked more closely at Lupin. "Why, do you want to call me by a nickname?" 

"Not if it bothers you," Lupin said.

Snape knew that meant "yes". He repressed a sigh; it wasn't as if Lupin asked for much, so he supposed he should indulge his lover in this one small, irrational desire. "I suppose it's all right if _you_ call me 'Sev,'" he said, trying to hide his reluctance.

"Really?" Lupin asked, so eagerly that Snape smiled despite himself. "Are you sure it's all right?"

"Yes, Remy," Snape said, suddenly feeling magnanimous.

"Sev," Lupin said, beaming at him again, and suddenly that nickname no longer seemed annoying at all.

"But please don't ever call me 'Sevie'!" Snape pleaded.

"Whatever you say, Sev," Lupin laughed, slipping his arms around Snape's neck.

"You like that, do you, Lupin?" Snape grinned, raising an eyebrow.

Lupin leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Yes, Sev."

Lupin's warm breath against his ear sent a shiver down Snape's spine. Yes indeed, "Sev" was sounding better and better all the time--as long as it was Lupin who was saying it, and not Malfoy. Well, two could play at that game... "Remy," he purred into Lupin's ear.

"Sev," Lupin groaned.

"Remy," Snape repeated, fumbling with his and Lupin's robes.

"Oh, Sev!"

"Oh, Remy!"

They spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, saying nothing but each other's nicknames over and over again...

*** 

The summer was winding down to a close, and both the children and the Professors began preparing for their return to school. Snape had finally finished brewing the Mind Restoration Potion, which was ready to be bottled and sent to the Dark Lord. He grudgingly admitted to himself--but no one else--that Granger's assistance had been quite helpful. And Dylan and Potter seemed to be progressing well enough in their Occlumency lessons. Dylan was still doing better than Potter, but at least Potter seemed to be making a real effort at his lessons, and the Dark Lord no longer seemed to be invading his dreams, which was a great relief.

An even greater relief was that Lupin finally seemed to be completely content now that they had "gone public" (as Lupin put it), and shared nicknames--something that was trivial to Snape but obviously meant a lot to Lupin. The werewolf was happy and relaxed, and no longer tried to "molest" Snape in public--although he was quite ardent with his affections in private, which suited Snape just fine. 

And privately, Snape had to admit that it was easier and more relaxing not to have to sneak around and hide their relationship, although he was a little irritated by Tonks's knowing grins and the way Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger would sometimes giggle when they saw Snape and Lupin together, although they would quickly fall silent and look properly cowed when Snape shot a glare their way. On the other hand, their relationship obviously irritated the hell out of Black, which Snape found very amusing, and when the children weren't around, Snape would unbend enough to kiss Lupin on the cheek or lay a hand on his shoulder, which earned him Lupin's gratitude and made Black grind his teeth in frustration. All in all, things were going quite well...

Almost too well, in fact, so Snape was not particularly surprised when one day, Lupin received an ominous letter that put a damper on the last idyllic days of summer. Snape had just returned from a shopping trip to Diagon Alley to pick up some supplies for his classes, when he found Lupin frowning down at a letter sitting on his desk. Snape peered over his shoulder and saw that it was written in Japanese.

"What's wrong, Lupin?" Snape asked. "Did Professor Kamiyama send some bad news?"

Lupin opened his mouth to reply, but just then Branwen leaned in the doorway and said, "The meeting starts in ten minutes, you two. You cut it a bit close, didn't you, Severus?"

Snape scowled and retorted in a testy voice, "I made it back on time, didn't I? I assure you I didn't forget that there was a meeting scheduled today!" The worried look on Lupin's face eased slightly as he chuckled in amusement. "So what did Kamiyama have to say?" Snape asked.

Lupin hesitated, then said, "We had better get downstairs. I'll tell you about it at the meeting."

Snape shrugged. "All right, just let me get these packages put away and I'll be right down."

*** 

At first it seemed like there would not be much to discuss at the meeting. The Dark Lord had not summoned his Death Eaters recently. Kingsley Shacklebolt reported that Gwydion Donner was working diligently at his new job, and had developed a promising new enchantment that he believed could be placed upon a collar or bracelet which could then be locked around a prisoner's neck or wrist. The spell would drain the mage's power, rendering him as helpless as a Squib so long as he wore the enchanted item.

Lupin shuddered a little, and Snape felt guilty for having once jokingly threatened to keep Lupin on a leash. A wolf would have a natural aversion to being bound, particularly one who'd had to be restrained or locked up before the Wolfsbane Potion had been invented. "A nasty spell," Lupin said. "And you can be sure he will pass the information on to his Master. We may have to defend against it ourselves one day." He rubbed his neck nervously and added, "I hope the Ministry doesn't get the bright idea of using it on anyone they deem dangerous, such as werewolves..."

Fortunately, Dumbledore was able to allay his fears somewhat, by reporting that the anti-werewolf legislation had been officially revoked, and Lupin breathed a sigh of relief.

A few other minor matters were discussed, and Branwen asked, "Does anyone else have any news to report?"

"I do, Branwen," Lupin said softly, and she gave him a startled look. He held up the letter he had been reading earlier. "I received this letter just before the meeting; I had no time to discuss it with you or anyone else. It's from Professor Kamiyama's granddaughter, Miyako." He read aloud, "Lupin-san, I have been having disturbing dreams for some time now. I told you about them the last time you visited: dreams of snakes and skulls. Warnings, I believe, of the danger your Lord Voldemort poses to us all. But last night I had a different dream, a dream of blood and roses. I dreamed of tangled, thorny vines, and black roses dyed red with blood. I don't know what it means, but I sense great danger, for you and Snape-sensei; please be careful. I will offer a prayer at the temple for the two of you. Miyako."

"Dreams," Moody muttered dismissively, and several of the other wizards agreed, but Dumbledore, Branwen, Goewin, Snape, and Lupin looked very concerned.

"Miyako is a true Seer, Alastor," Lupin insisted. 

Goewin believed him, because she had once had the Sight herself, before Gilbert and Gwydion had stolen it from her, along with her virginity. "Do you know what the dream means, Remus?" she asked.

Lupin shook his head. "No, I don't. But could it have something to do with Dylan? Perhaps it's symbolic, the roses standing for 'Rosier'?"

Snape looked very troubled. "The Rosier family crest is a rose," he said. "And I visited Evan's house a few times when we were younger. The grounds were covered with rosebushes, but not ordinary ones. The roses were black--not dark red or purple, but a true black, which is supposed to be impossible. They were quite exotic, and much admired by the other pureblood families, and as far as I know, they grew nowhere else but on the Rosier lands."

Shacklebolt, who had looked skeptical at first, began to look worried. "The Rosier lands and wealth were supposed to be confiscated after Evan Rosier's parents were killed. But no one was able to enter the grounds on which the family manor stood. It was heavily warded with protective spells, which mainly seemed to be placed on those black roses you mentioned. After the Rosiers died, the roses grew wild, surrounding the house. Anyone who tried to enter the grounds was attacked by the roses, their vines lashing out like whips. And the thorns on those vines were very nasty; the Ministry agents who came to confiscate the Rosiers' property were nearly killed. Fortunately, they had a few Aurors with them, since they figured they'd have to deal with Dark Magic. They tried cutting the vines, burning them, withering them magically--nothing worked. Finally, the Ministry gave up and declared the property off-limits."

"Like the old fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty," Tonks mused.

"I doubt there's a princess waiting inside the manor," Snape said sarcastically.

"Severus, you have to protect Dylan!" Goewin cried out, her face turning pale. "You can't let him associate with the Death Eaters anymore--what if this dream was a warning foretelling his death?"

"That's not necessarily what it means, Goewin," Snape said. He was still troubled but forced himself to keep up an outwardly calm demeanor. One of them had to remain calm, after all, and besides, he didn't want the other Order members to realize how much he cared about Dylan. "Prophetic dreams are difficult to interpret, and you can rarely take them literally--"

"Don't lecture me about Divination, Severus!" Goewin snapped. "I was an Oracle once, remember?"

Snape just nodded, taking no offense at her tone, because he knew it was fueled by her fear for Dylan. "Dylan is a Rosier," he pointed out. "I don't think the roses would hurt him. But..."

"But that must be what Voldemort wants the boy for!" Sirius finished excitedly. "He wants to use him to get past the enchanted roses and into the house!"

Shacklebolt looked even more alarmed, and fear made him edgy as well. "Dammit, Snape!" he said. "You were friends with Evan Rosier, you've been to his house--do you really have no idea what You-Know-Who wants from it?"

Snape was less patient with the Auror than he had been with Goewin. "I wasn't _that_ close to Evan," he said waspishly. "We played pranks at school together, he gossiped to me about his love life--but he didn't share family secrets with me."

"You joined the Death Eaters together," Moody growled, but fell silent after Dumbledore gave him a stern look. 

"I suppose the Rosiers probably possessed Dark Magic items," Snape said, shooting a quick glare Moody's way, "but I don't know specifically what the Dark Lord might want."

"Then maybe Goewin is right," Shacklebolt said. "If he intends to use Dylan Rosier to get his hands on some kind of weapon, then we have to keep the boy away from him."

"I think Goewin was more worried about Dylan's safety, Kingsley," Tonks said quietly.

"Well, of course we want to keep the boy safe," Shacklebolt hastily added, looking a little embarrassed.

But Snape was shaking his head. "No, we don't know how long we'd have to keep Dylan in hiding. It could be years--"

"But Severus--" Goewin protested.

"I told you before," Snape said impatiently, but there was a hint of sympathy in his eyes, "Dylan will be in more danger if the Dark Lord thinks he is a traitor. If he does not answer when summoned, the Dark Lord will hunt him down and kill him."

"Whatever happened to Karkaroff?" Lupin wondered out loud.

Snape shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's dead," Snape replied, not sounding as if he cared much one way or the other, and Lupin frowned at him. Snape scowled. "I told Karkaroff it would do no good to run, but he didn't listen to me. He was a fool; no one is allowed to leave the Death Eaters."

Sirius nodded in grim agreement, remembering how his brother Regulus had been killed when he realized what the Death Eaters were really about and had gotten cold feet. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Lupin had to repress a smile; it was extremely rare to see Severus and Sirius agreeing about anything.

"Karkaroff's no loss," Moody muttered. "Ministry should've never let him out of Azkaban." Then he looked at Snape and added menacingly, "Don't you forget which side you're on, Snape!"

"Alastor!" Branwen said sharply, and Moody fell silent, giving her a resentful and puzzled look. He had worked closely with her in the old days, so he had no doubt of her loyalty despite her family's reputation. But he had never understood why she had been so attached to her Slytherin students in general, and Snape in particular.

The meeting broke up soon afterwards, with Snape promising to keep an eye on Dylan, and Shacklebolt and Tonks saying they would try to learn more about the Rosier manor and try to have the Ministry keep an eye on it.

"But discreetly," Snape warned. "We don't want word of this getting back to the Dark Lord, or to Gwydion Donner, for that matter! And Gwydion works in your department now."

"That makes it more difficult," Shacklebolt muttered, still looking peeved about Gwydion being in the Ministry. "But we'll be careful."

Before Goewin left, she paused and said to Snape in a cold voice, "If anything happens to Dylan, Severus, I'm holding you personally responsible!"

"Goewin--" Lupin started to call after her as she stalked out of the room, but Snape shook his head.

"Let her go, Lupin," he said quietly. "She needs to be angry at someone, and it might as well be me. And she's right, it is my fault; I should have been watching him more carefully. I should never have let Lucius Malfoy get anywhere near him."

"It's not your fault, Severus," Lupin said gently. "You couldn't be with him every minute of the day. And Lucius Malfoy's son is Dylan's housemate. Even if Lucius had been unable to get to Dylan on the Quidditch field that day, he would eventually have found another way, perhaps have sent Draco to lure him out with Ariane's ring."

Snape just shook his head again. "I promised Ariane I would protect him. I promised myself--" He broke off his sentence when he realized that although the other wizards had all left, Sirius Black was still in the room with them, staring at Snape with a thoughtful look on his face. He scowled at Black and quickly left the room, a concerned-looking Lupin following close behind.

*** 

Sirius just sat there, feeling stunned. There had been genuine concern and remorse in Snape's voice and eyes, and Sirius had never seen him show those emotions before--at least, not for anyone but Lupin, Sirius grudgingly admitted to himself. He knew that Snape was tutoring Dylan Rosier, and that he had exhibited a certain protectiveness towards the boy when defending him against Moody's suspicious, insinuating comments, but for the first time Sirius realized that Snape really cared about Dylan, maybe as much as Sirius cared for Harry. It was a very disconcerting thought.

First of all, Sirius realized, feeling a bit ashamed of himself, that he had not been particularly concerned about the Rosier boy. Intellectually he agreed that it was a terrible thing for a child to be forced to join the Death Eaters, but emotionally he had remained detached. He had never met the boy, after all, and he had never liked the boy's father. Evan Rosier had been a Slytherin, and in Sirius's eyes, that alone had made him an enemy. To make matters worse, Rosier and his friend Wilkes had been inveterate pranksters, and the objects of their pranks were usually Gryffindors. And to top it all off, unlike Snape, Evan Rosier had been handsome, charming, and popular, although there had always been a sly, devious look in his dark eyes that everyone else seemed to overlook. He had charmed students and teachers alike; even the terrifying Professor Blackmore had occasionally laughed at his antics (although she also gave him detention numerous times) and had allowed Evan to coax her into dancing with him at the Yule Ball during their fourth year.

Actually, not much coaxing had been required. Bold as brass, Evan had strutted right up to Professor Blackmore, bowed with a courtly flourish, and said, "Will you grant me the honor of a dance, Milady?" A stunned silence had fallen over the crowd as every person in the room held their breath, expecting Blackmore to strike him down on the spot. Even old Dumbledore had looked a little worried, and had slipped his hand into his pocket, as if to reach for his wand and prepare to stop her from killing Evan or turning him into a toad. But to everyone's amazement, Blackmore had just smiled, curtsied, and replied, "I would be delighted to, good sir." She had held out her hand, and Evan, looking a little dazed, had taken it and led her out onto the dance floor. 

Evan Rosier had been the talk of the school for weeks afterwards, regarded with awe by both the male and female students alike. The adult Sirius was now a little chagrined to realize that he had been jealous of Rosier, although he had refused to admit it at the time. He was used to being the most popular boy in the school, along with James, and he had resented the Slytherin boy coming along and stealing his thunder. Sirius had the advantage, being a Gryffindor, of course, because the Slytherins were mostly disliked by the other Houses, but Evan's good looks and charm to some extent overcame the reputation of his House, and from time to time, one of his outrageous stunts would serve to vault him into the spotlight over Sirius and James. And Sirius and James, of course, would feel obligated to pull off something even more outrageous... _No wonder we got so many detentions,_ Sirius thought to himself, feeling a little amused, and at the same time, a little ashamed of his pettiness.

Because of his dislike for Dylan's father, Sirius had assumed that the son was much the same--at worst, a true Death Eater, or at best, someone foolish and shallow enough to be ensnared by the Dark Lord's promises. _Like my brother Regulus,_ Sirius thought guiltily. Although he had told Harry that he had hated his family, deep down Sirius had loved his younger brother. He recalled what Branwen had said about Lyall Wilkes: "Lyall was not a bad boy, just very gullible and easily misled." Now that he thought about it, Sirius realized that his brother had been very much like Wilkes: cheerful and happy-go-lucky, but not very bright. Regulus had believed all the rubbish their parents and Voldemort had fed him about pureblood superiority, and had willingly joined the Death Eaters. But he had never really been cruel or malicious, and had been horrified when he realized that his Dark Lord expected him to murder people. Poor, foolish Regulus had tried to leave the Death Eaters, only to find that Voldemort allowed none of his minions to escape his grasp, save through death. 

_Maybe if I'd remained at home, I could have persuaded Regulus not to join the Death Eaters,_ Sirius thought. _If I'd tried harder to stay close to him, maybe I could at least have saved him after he left, by taking him to Dumbledore for protection._

But Sirius had left home at an early age, and had not kept in touch with his brother. He had loved Regulus, but had been jealous of him as well, for being the favored son, their mother's pet, when nothing Sirius did was ever good enough to please his parents. They had quarreled bitterly before Sirius departed the family house--Sirius's words sharpened by jealousy and resentment--over Regulus's blind obedience to their parents, and his sympathy for Voldemort's ideals. So Regulus had not confided in Sirius, either when he joined the Death Eaters or when he left them. Sirius suspected he could not have stopped his brother from joining the Death Eaters, but he might have been able to warn him how dangerous it would be to leave them. But by the time he had found out, it was too late and Regulus was dead. At the time he had merely cursed his brother for being a fool, but now he finally permitted himself to feel the sorrow and guilt that he had repressed for so many years.

Overwhelmed by grief, Sirius acknowledged that the second reason he had been surprised by Snape's genuine concern for Dylan Rosier was that he hadn't really believed that Snape was capable of feeling love--or any other unselfish emotion--for anyone. This despite Branwen's and Lupin's protests to the contrary, despite the fact that Snape had turned spy against the Death Eaters, despite the fact that he had helped to create the Wolfsbane potion for Lupin, and put up with Moony's exhibitionist displays of affection, despite the fact that he had saved Sirius for Lupin's sake... 

Finally, Sirius reluctantly admitted to himself that maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong about Snape. Yes, Snape had behaved recklessly and thoughtlessly when he had turned against Lupin after the Shrieking Shack incident, when he had joined the Death Eaters, when he had exposed Lupin's lycanthropy at Hogwarts, and most recently, when he had stopped Harry's Occlumency lessons, thereby making him vulnerable to Voldemort's manipulations. But was Sirius himself any better? He had turned his back on his little brother. He had gotten Lily and James killed by convincing them to make Peter their Secret-Keeper, and gotten himself imprisoned because he had not told anyone about the switch. He had behaved childishly this past year, hurting both Harry and Lupin with his thoughtlessness and selfish complaints. 

And...twenty years ago he had hurt and endangered Remus with his stupid "prank". For the first time ever, Sirius admitted to himself that it had not just been a "prank". He had wanted to hurt Snape, yes, and drive him away from Moony, but he had also wanted to hurt Remus. Oh, he had not intended to get him executed, imprisoned, or even expelled--typically, Sirius had not bothered to consider the possible consequences of his actions. But he had wanted to punish Remus--and he knew Remus would be hurt when Snape rejected him, as he was sure to once he realized Remus was a werewolf--for sneaking around with that slimy git behind their backs, for choosing Snape over his true friends. 

_For choosing Snape over me,_ Sirius silently corrected himself. He had never had romantic feelings for Moony, but he had loved him like a brother, had loved all three of his fellow Marauders like brothers. They had become his family, after his real family rejected him, and he was fiercely loyal and devoted to them. And he had expected the same loyalty in return....and at the time, he had felt Remus had betrayed that loyalty when he fell in love with Snape. Sirius suddenly remembered what Remus had told him last summer, about Snape being jealous and insecure, how he looked at love as a finite thing, believing that if Remus loved Sirius and Harry, there might be nothing left for him. With horror, Sirius realized he had been no better than Snape: he had believed that if Moony loved Snape it meant that he loved his Marauder friends--loved Sirius--less. He had not believed that Remus could love them all equally at the same time; he had tried to make Remus choose between them countless times over the years. Snape had made that choice for them the first time, when they were teenagers, but Lupin had refused to play that game as an adult.

Sirius felt deeply ashamed of himself, and began to weep--for his brother, for Remus, for the stubborn, insecure, self-centered, thick-headed boy he had been. That he still was, if truth be told...

The door swung open and Branwen called, "Sirius? Are you still in here?" He quickly turned away and ran his sleeve across his eyes, but he could not seem to stop sobbing, no matter how hard he tried. "Sirius!" she said, looking alarmed and concerned. She sat down next to him and put her arms around him, saying in a tender and gentle voice, "My dear child," and Sirius found himself weeping on her shoulder as she stroked his hair, comforting him much the same way she had comforted Lupin last year, when he had been lonely and overwhelmed by the wolf's instincts when Snape had been unable to come to him as the full moon approached. He did not tell her why he was crying, and she did not ask, but simply held him and murmured, "Shh, Sirius, shh, it's all right..."

*** 

Sirius never told Branwen what had triggered his emotional outburst the day she had held him while he wept; he was too ashamed, and not quite ready to speak those words aloud to another person. And though she must have been curious, she did not press him; perhaps she was able to guess on her own, a little of what he had been feeling. From the time she had been their teacher at Hogwarts, she had always been quite perceptive--so much so that the students had fearfully joked that she could read minds. Sirius occasionally wondered if she was versed in Legilimency, but he supposed that could not be true, since Dumbledore had said Snape was the only person other than himself who could give Harry Occlumency lessons.

But mind-reader or not, for the rest of the summer, she treated him more kindly and gently than she normally did, watching over him with a concerned look in her eyes that was usually reserved for Snape. Part of Sirius was touched by her concern, while another part of him was embarrassed and annoyed. Sirius did not want Branwen to mother him; ever since he had been an Auror-in-training under her supervision, he had wanted to win her respect. He wanted her to see him as an adult and an equal, a colleague and friend--not a wayward schoolboy.

Shortly before school was about to start, when Snape was out of the house on an errand, Sirius went up to Lupin's room. It was about twenty years too late, but he owed his friend an apology...

"Hello, Sirius," Lupin said with a cheerful smile, which quickly changed to a look of concern when he saw the expression on Sirius's face. "My, but you look glum," he said lightly, although the worry in his blue eyes belied his tone of voice. "What's wrong?"

"I...I just wanted to apologize, Moony," Sirius said awkwardly.

"For what?" Lupin asked, sounding puzzled.

"For sending Snape to the Shrieking Shack," Sirius whispered.

Lupin looked even more puzzled than before. "Why are you apologizing for that now?"

"Because I owe you an apology, even if it's twenty years late," Sirius said, hanging his head. "I mean, I've apologized before, but I wasn't really sorry, and you knew it. But I am now. I'm sorry I hurt you, Moony."

"What brought all this on?" Lupin asked gently.

Sirius flushed. He wasn't quite ready to talk about his somewhat-revised view of Snape yet. "I...I've been doing a lot of thinking," he mumbled. "All that stuff they were talking about at the meeting, about no one being allowed to leave the Death Eaters alive--it made me think of Regulus." Although talking about his brother was difficult, it was still easier than talking about Severus Snape. 

"Your brother?"

Sirius nodded. "I cut off all contact with my family, including Regulus. But even though he was a fool, he was still my little brother. I should have kept in touch with him, I should have looked after him--maybe I could have saved him from the Death Eaters. But I turned my back on him. Now it's too late for me to apologize to Regulus, but at least I can apologize to you." Lupin was staring at him with a very thoughtful look on his face. "I always called Snape sneaky and selfish, but I was just as bad. I let Regulus down. I let James and Lily down--"

"Don't go wallowing in guilt and self-pity," Lupin said, but there was a gentle smile on his face.

Sirius ignored him. "And I let you down. I..." His voice faltered and he almost couldn't get the words out, but he forced himself to continue. "I tried to hurt you," he whispered. "Not just Snape, but you, because I was selfish and petty and jealous. Because I was angry that you were seeing someone who was our enemy--at least, I thought he was an enemy." Sirius, who had always been so sure of everything, was no longer certain what was true anymore. "Because I thought you were choosing Snape over us."

"Oh, Sirius," Lupin said sadly, shaking his head.

"But I swear, I never meant to put you in danger!" Sirius cried out. "I never realized that you could be imprisoned or killed for what I did!" Then he flushed and said, "Not that that's any excuse. I know saying 'I'm sorry' doesn't make up for what I did, but I am so sorry, Remy--"

"I forgive you, Padfoot," Lupin said, still in that gentle voice, and embraced him. They held each other for a moment, then Lupin let go of him and added softly, "But there is someone else you owe an apology to..."

Sirius flushed again; he knew Remus was right, but it taken almost all of his courage just to face his best friend, who was forgiving almost to a fault. He felt like a coward, but something inside him quailed at the thought of facing the sarcastic, bitter Potions Master with an apology. "I...I can't," he whispered in a choking voice, his throat constricting with fear and guilt. "I'm sorry, Remy, I just can't, not yet..." 

He expected to see anger or disappointment in his friend's eyes, but Lupin just gave him a tender little smile and embraced him again, saying, "When you're ready, then."

Sirius left Lupin's room feeling very humbled and chastened. Remus had always seemed so fragile and in need of protection, with his meek and gentle demeanor. _When did he become so strong?_ Sirius wondered. _Or did I underestimate him all this time?_ For the first time, Sirius thought that perhaps Remus's forgiving nature was not a sign of weakness after all, but rather, a sign of strength...

*** 

Before Branwen had departed for Hogwarts, she had cast a Summoning spell for Sirius, although it was not so much a summoning as it was a call; she did not try to summon a specific creature, but merely broadcast a message that there was a house in need of a friendly spirit. No one was compelled to answer it--neither Sirius nor Branwen believed in slavery--and the restrictions on the spell would block out any creatures with ill-intent. What appeared in the middle of the rune-filled circle Branwen had inscribed on the floor was a little round man, slightly taller and much wider than a house-elf. "Round" described the creature very well: he had a belly so round that he almost looked like a ball with limbs and a head attached, and he had a plump, round, very cheerful-looking face. He had bristly black hair, a large nose, and friendly brown eyes, and he was clad only in what looked like a set of long underwear (a pale, faded yellow) and a pair of tatty green slippers.

"Hob heard your call," the man said, a little nervously. "Does this house need looking after?"

"Indeed it does," Branwen said, kneeling down to be on eye-level with the man. "There are several wizards living in the house at present, and we have been taking care of it ourselves, but soon we will be leaving, and the master of the house--" She motioned to Sirius. "--will be all alone. And it is a bit much for one person to handle." 

"Taking care of houses--and people--is what Hob does," the little man said.

"You're a hob?" Sirius asked curiously, crouching down on the floor beside Branwen. "I've never met one before."

"Hobs usually serve simple, common folk," the man replied, "not grand wizards."

Sirius snorted. "There's nothing grand about me, or my family, or this house."

"Wizards prefer to have house-elf servants," Branwen explained to the children, who were watching wide-eyed, "because the elves are virtual slaves and cannot leave unless their masters free them. A hob will leave if it is mistreated, or if it is given clothes, of course." She gave Hermione a stern look. "If the hob agrees to stay, you must not give him clothes!"

"No, no clothes!" the hob agreed fervently. "Clothes make Hob vain and full of himself. They make him feel too proud to serve, and he forgets his duty to his family, and leaves his house." The hob looked mournful. "And Hob has been without a home and a family for a long time. The humans these days do not follow the old ways, they do not leave Hob's gift beside the fire. They do not believe in magic; even the children cannot see Hob."

"Normally, only young children and wizards can see a hob," Branwen explained, "because it requires a belief in magic to do so."

"But he's not a slave?" Hermione asked suspiciously. "He can leave if he wants to?" Branwen and the hob both nodded. "You'll pay him wages?" she asked Sirius.

"All Hob asks is that his gift be left by the fire every night," the hob said. "A piece of buttered toast, a bowl of cream, or perhaps a little tobacco for his pipe--"

"Smoking's bad for you--" Hermione started to say, but Ron elbowed her in the side and said, "Shh! Do you want to chase off the hob?" She glared at him but fell silent.

"--maybe even a nice tea cake with currants or a custard tart once in awhile," the hob finished, licking his lips and patting his round belly.

"Another person with a sweet-tooth!" Sirius laughed. "You should get along well in this house! Snape and Bane already eat so much sugar I'm surprised their teeth haven't rotted away. Well, Bane doesn't have any teeth, come to think of it..."

"That's all you get paid?" Hermione asked indignantly. "A piece of toast or a tea cake? You should pay him a decent wage, Sirius, in Galleons--"

"What would Hob do with money?" the little man asked, scratching his head in a puzzled fashion.

"She is a Muggle," Branwen explained gently. "She doesn't understand." To Hermione she said, "What a hob really wants is not money or possessions, Hermione, but a place to belong and a family to look after. A hob does more than just clean and cook; it makes a house, well...happier. It chases away bad spirits that cause dissension and discord, and makes things run more smoothly. The family in return leaves out a gift for its hob every night to show their appreciation." She smiled at the hob. "A hob is like a living good-luck charm, you might say."

"I have to warn you," Sirius said, "that this is a very big house--perhaps a lot for one hob to handle. Though of course I don't expect you to take care of it all by yourself--"

"Big is not a problem," the hob said firmly, looking a little insulted.

"The other thing is, well, there's no 'family'--it's just me."

"No children?" the hob asked, looking disappointed. "But I see four children here--"

"They are only staying with me for the summer," Sirius said. "They are students at Hogwarts, and must return to school in the fall. The other wizards staying here with me are teachers at the same school, so they must leave as well. But they'll come to visit during the holidays, or at least I hope they will." 

The children promised that they would come visit during Christmas vacation, and the hob cheered up slightly. "Well, Hob cannot afford to be too picky these days," he admitted. "And you seem like a good person, Mr.--"

"Call me Sirius," Sirius said firmly. "Not 'Master' or 'Mister,' but just plain Sirius." He held out his hand and the hob shook it. "And what name should I call you by?"

"Hob is Hob," the hob said, as if stating the obvious.

"Very well, then," Sirius said with a grin. "Welcome to the family, Hob!"

*** 

For about a week, the house was a cheerful and lively place. There was a great deal of magic in the air; even the children were wizards, it seemed. Hob had never lived with wizards before, and it made him a little nervous. The children were kind, though, especially Hermione, although she did have some rather odd notions--she kept talking about wanting to free the house-elves. What was a house-elf supposed to do if it had no house to keep and no family to serve? But she did knit him a little blanket for his bedding when he moved into a cupboard under the stairs. It was a nice, cozy little space once he cleaned it out, and the Master of the house--who insisted on being called by his name, Sirius--found some Hob-sized furnishings up in the attic that had once belonged to some Black child's dolls. But Hob's chosen quarters seemed to distress the boy Harry, for some reason.

"You can't make him live in a cupboard, Sirius!"

"But that is where Hob always lives," Hob said, puzzled. "It is Hob's favorite space, where he can hear the comings and goings of his family. It is a cozy little cupboard; Hob likes it."

The adults led Harry away, gently comforting him and explaining things to him. Hermione whispered to Hob, "Harry's aunt and uncle made him live in a cupboard under the stairs for years; that's why it bothers him so much."

"A cupboard is home for a Hob, but it is not a place for a child!" Hob said, feeling distressed himself. "What kind of people would put a child in a cupboard?"

"Bad people," said Hermione darkly. "But don't worry; Harry's got us to look after him now."

Hob shook his head; he didn't understand wizard ways, but these people seemed like good folk. He liked Mrs. Weasley, who was always bustling about cooking tasty things in the kitchen. And there was Lady Blackmore, who had summoned him--he could not conceive of calling her "Branwen," although she told him that he could. He wondered if the other residents of the house realized that Lady Blackmore was not human; she had old magic, dark magic singing in her veins--more power than a human, even one who was a mage, should possess. She had an aura similar to that of a noblewoman of the Sidhe, or perhaps even a Dark spirit such as a demon. And her familiar was no ordinary bird; he was some sort of Dark creature bound in the shape of a raven. Yet there was no darkness in Lady Blackmore's soul; he would never have answered her call, otherwise. She was kind, if stern, and he could feel how much she loved the occupants of the house, especially Sirius, Snape, and Lupin.

Snape was the one that Hob thought of as the Dark Man, because he was always cloaked in black, and his mood was usually bitter and dark to match. Sirius did not like him. But Hob soon saw that he was not as scary as he seemed: he would often slip the bird-who-was-not-a-bird a treat when no one was looking, and once, when all the wizards were talking and having tea in the drawing room, the Dark Man saw Hob hiding in the shadows, and quietly laid down a cookie beside the fire for him.

And the Dark Man's mood always lightened whenever Lupin entered the room. Very odd folk, these wizards; there was Lady Blackmore, who was something more than human, and there was Lupin, who was a wolf in the shape of a man. Yet he was not scary at all; while Snape was full of darkness, Lupin seemed to radiate light and happiness. He was cheerful and friendly, and always left out little treats for Hob, even though Sirius, the Master of the house, dutifully left Hob's gift by the fire every night.

Sirius seemed to be composed of equal parts of dark and light, as reflected by his face, which was handsome, but permanently marked by lines of hardship and privation, and there were hidden shadows in his dark eyes. He was mostly happy and good-natured until his friends all departed for school, then he turned moody and brooding. He was lonesome, Hob realized, so although Hob normally did his work out of sight and did not show himself to his family (except, occasionally, to the children), he remained visible and conversed with Sirius and took meals with him, as his Master requested, and sometimes even played checkers or chess with him in the evenings. Hob was not much good at such games; a hob lived in the moment, and rarely thought very far ahead, but it was all right, because Sirius seemed to want companionship more than he wanted a challenging opponent.

It was no wonder Sirius was so moody; the house was very dark and gloomy, so Hob tried to brighten it up a bit. A touch of magic brightened the colors on fading wallpaper, and he drew open the drapes and scrubbed the windows clean to let the light in. He chased out a boggart who had taken up residence in the basement. He made sure to fix any loose, squeaky floorboards that might wake the portrait of Mrs. Black in the Entrance Hall, and had Sirius replace the old troll-leg umbrella stand with one too sturdy and heavy to be knocked over by the Master's kind but clumsy cousin, Tonks. Sirius seemed pleased with the changes, and they settled down into a pleasant, if rather humdrum life. But hobs liked humdrum; they liked peace and quiet, and did not care much for excitement and great adventures.

But Hob should have known that a wizard's life was not likely to remain humdrum for long...

*** 

Dylan was relieved to be back at school, even if he would have to face Draco Malfoy every day. He was tired of being cooped up in his great-uncle's house; at least at school he would have more freedom, and he was happy to see his friends again, although he wondered how many of their parents were Death Eaters, or at least sympathizers of Voldemort. But his best friend Damien's parents had never "joined up" (as Damien put it), so at least he didn't have to worry about Damien giving him knowing looks or pestering him for details about Death Eater meetings the way Draco did.

The older students were already seated in the Great Hall, chattering with each other as they awaited the arrival of the first-years and the Sorting Hat. Out of the corner of his eye, Dylan saw Hermione sitting at the Gryffindor table; she flashed him a quick smile, then looked away. He still regretted that he'd been forced to end their friendship, but at least she understood now why he'd done it, and no longer hated him. Then his eyes widened and he momentarily forgot about Hermione as the teachers filed in and took their places at the head table. 

There was Dumbledore, of course, as well as Snape, Flitwick, and the other staff members. But there were two new faces...the first face took Dylan's breath away. She was a stunningly beautiful woman with waist-length black hair and piercing green eyes; she was dressed in dark green robes, and an enormous raven perched on her shoulder and stared at the assembled students with a baleful look in its black eyes. But it was not the woman's beauty or the raven's sinister stare that made Dylan's mouth drop open--it was the fact that he recognized her. He had seen her before in Snape's memories during their Occlumency lessons; she was the teacher who had praised a teenaged Snape in class. From that memory, and his mother's descriptions, he could guess who she was--this was the infamous Professor Blackmore. Dylan was so dumbfounded, and Blackmore was so striking--she had a commanding presence that seemed to draw every eye in the room to her--that he almost didn't notice the man walking behind her, who seemed to have a much more quiet and low-key presence, as reflected by his robes, which were a muted shade of bluish-gray. But then he saw the man's face, and his jaw dropped again. That face, too, he recognized from Snape's memories--it was the long-haired teenage boy that young Snape had been spying on. The boy was now a man, and his brown hair was streaked with gray, but it was clearly the same person. 

"Who's _that_?" Dylan demanded of Damien, pointing at the head table.

Damien thought he was pointing at Blackmore, and said, "I don't know, but she's gorgeous, isn't she?"

"No, not her," Dylan said impatiently. "That's Professor Blackmore." Damien gave him a startled look, and he hastily lied, "I've, uh, seen pictures of her in my mother's school scrapbooks. And yes, she is gorgeous, but I was wondering who that man is. The one sitting next to Professor Snape?" Because Blackmore and the mysterious man from Snape's memories had taken seats at the table on either side of the Potions Master. Snape gave his former teacher a curt nod, but he glared at the man seated beside him with a look of loathing usually reserved only for Harry Potter.

"Oh, that's Professor Lupin," Damien replied. "He taught here the year before you came, but--"

"But he was thrown out because he turned out to be a werewolf," Draco snarled. "What's he doing back here?! If my father were here--"

"But he's not here, is he, Malfoy?" a seventh-year boy sneered. Apparently, with his father in disgrace, Draco had lost some of the authority he held over Slytherin House, which was not surprising, since he treated everyone, even the older students, with an arrogant, high-handed manner. Since everyone feared Lucius Malfoy, they had also feared to antagonize his son, but now that Lucius Malfoy was imprisoned in Azkaban...

Draco glared at the boy and hissed, "Just you wait till my father gets back--Azkaban won't be able to hold him for long! And then you'll be sorry!"

The seventh-year boy was not impressed, but many of the other Slytherin students exchanged nervous glances. Everyone knew now that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, and they had all heard stories about how ruthless the Death Eaters had been in the old days. They silently agreed that perhaps it would be still be prudent not to offend Draco, after all.

Damien was among those who looked nervous. He shrugged slightly; he didn't seem to be particularly upset about Professor Lupin's return, but he clearly didn't care to openly contradict Draco. He gave Dylan a look that said, "We'll talk about it later..."

Professor McGonagall walked in with the Sorting Hat, which sang the same song it had last year, the one that warned that the Houses must unite or "crumble from within". Dylan glanced at his housemates, and at the other tables; while many of the students--like Draco--looked bored or scornful, many more looked uneasy, and a few looked thoughtful. Perhaps now that the Dark Lord's return could no longer be denied, they were taking the Sorting Hat's warning more seriously.

The first-years were sorted, and Dumbledore made his opening speech, closing with, "I would like to introduce our two new faculty members, although actually they are not new at all, but rather, old friends who are returning after too long an absence. First, I'm sure that many of you remember Professor Lupin, who is resuming his old post as Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor." Professor Lupin stood briefly and nodded, a pleasant smile on his face. There was enthusiastic applause, except from the Slytherin table. A few of the younger Slytherins started to clap until Draco glared at them menacingly, and they hastily let their hands fall into their laps. "And next, Professor Blackmore, whom you have never met before, but she taught many of your parents." Professor Blackmore also stood and nodded, although she did not smile as Lupin had, but merely let her gaze sweep across the hall with a look of cool appraisal before she took her seat. An excited buzz of conversation filled the room as the children whispered to each other. How could Professor Blackmore possibly have taught their parents, when she was obviously younger than most of their parents were?

"Was she some kind of child genius?" Damien muttered incredulously. "She'd have to have been teaching in diapers!"

"I remember my mother talking about Professor Blackmore," Dylan said. "But she'd have to be in her late forties by now--"

"No way is she forty!" Damien exclaimed, and several of their classmates murmured in agreement.

Draco had looked as shocked as everyone else, but he scowled and gave Damien a contemptuous look. "Use your brain, Pierce!" he snapped. "Dark Magic can be used to preserve youth or enhance beauty! For all we know, it could just be a simple glamor spell!"

"That's a pretty damn convincing glamor," Damien said, still staring open-mouthed at Blackmore, and Crabbe and Goyle nodded vigorously. 

"She's old enough to be your mother!" Pansy Parkinson snapped, giving the boys a miffed look. 

"She can mother me all she likes," Damien said with a suggestive leer.

"You're disgusting!" Pansy said, but then Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly, and the students all fell silent.

"Professor Blackmore will be teaching Incantations and Summonings, which has just been restored to the curriculum after a fifteen-year absence," the Headmaster said. "However, this is considered an advanced class, and will be open only to third-years on up, due to the fact that it requires prior experience in spell-casting and rune-making, and because of the slight element of risk involved." 

The first and second-years let out a collective groan. "Risk?" Damien asked, a little nervously.

"It's no big deal," Dylan said nonchalantly; his mother had told him a great deal about her elemental-summoning project, since that was where her romance with his father had begun. "If the spell isn't performed properly, the creature you're summoning could break free and cause harm." Now nearly all the Slytherins were staring at him wide-eyed; Draco shot him a sullen, slightly jealous look--he didn't like it when Dylan stole the spotlight from him. Dylan gave him an apologetic smile and said dismissively to his housemates, "But Blackmore always uses safeguards--or so my mother says--and they probably won't let us summon anything dangerous, anyway."

Dumbledore said, "Let the feast begin!" and the tables were suddenly laden with savory dishes, and the students turned their attention to their meals. Dylan ignored the mindless gossip of his housemates, about how they had spent their summers or who was dating whom, and let his eyes drift back to the head table. Professor Blackmore's return was quite intriguing, but right now he was more interested in Professor Lupin; Dylan was curious to know why Lupin had such a prominent place in Snape's memories. 

He did not really look that much different from the glimpses Dylan had caught of him during the Occlumency lessons--although there was gray in his hair, and a few lines on his face, he still looked quite young and boyish, with a mischievous gleam in his light blue eyes. And his hair was still long and falling across his face in untidy strands; he kept brushing it back out of his eyes, and every time he did so, Snape would shoot him an annoyed look, for some reason. Snape said something to Lupin that Dylan couldn't hear; no doubt some snide insult, judging by the expression on Snape's face. But Lupin didn't look offended, and just smiled at Snape in a bright, cheery manner, and Snape looked even more annoyed than before. He glared at Lupin, then turned away and began conversing with Professor Blackmore. 

Lupin looked out across the room, and for a moment, his eyes seemed to rest on Dylan, and he smiled. Then he turned his attention back to the head table, and began talking to Professor Flitwick, leaving Dylan to wonder if he'd imagined the whole thing. Perhaps he had really been looking at someone else in the same general direction, and Dylan had only thought Lupin was looking at him. After all, he had never met Lupin before, so there was no reason for the new teacher to smile at him or even recognize him at all. Perhaps he might have noticed Dylan's resemblance to his father, but from Snape's memory, it seemed like Lupin had probably been a Gryffindor, so why would he be smiling at the son of a Slytherin Death-Eater...?

*** 

Snape glared at Lupin as he pushed his hair back from his face for the umpteenth time. _Why doesn't he just tie it back?_ Snape grumbled to himself. It wasn't that he didn't like Lupin's long hair; the problem was that he liked it too much. Every time Lupin's hair fell across his face, Snape had to repress a nearly irresistible urge to reach over and brush it out of Lupin's eyes, to run his hands through Lupin's gold-and-silver hair. He wondered if Lupin was deliberately letting his hair fall forward; the werewolf could be such a little tease at times...

"It's nice of you to agree to brew the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus, Severus," Branwen was saying, a hint of mischief in her green eyes belying the otherwise solemn expression on her face.

Snape glowered at her; were the two of them conspiring to get on his nerves?! "I only agreed to do it because the Headmaster ordered me to," he growled. He turned to Lupin and added with a sneer, "Besides, we wouldn't want the children getting mauled by a werewolf. You gave them quite a scare last time, Lupin. Do try to refrain from howling at the moon this time, will you?"

Lupin just gave him a cheerfully inane smile and said in the chirpy tone that he knew always annoyed Snape to no end, "I have every confidence in your potion-brewing skills, Severus. I am sure the nights of the full moon will pass quite peacefully; the wolf wants nothing more than to lie beside the fire, chew on a juicy bone, and perhaps be scratched behind the ears." 

The Potions Master flushed and gave Lupin a menacing look, his black eyes silently threatening, _You'll pay for that later!_ Lupin quickly turned away before he started laughing; he did love teasing Severus, and the wolf found the threat more exciting than intimidating. Severus's idea of "punishment" was a blissfully sweet torture that involved him kissing, caressing, and making love to Lupin at a maddeningly slow and deliberate pace until Lupin finally lost control (which truthfully, did not take long) and began begging him for release. _And Severus calls ME a tease,_ Lupin thought with amusement. Still, Severus rarely tortured his lover for long, because he usually lost control himself when the werewolf began growling and baring his teeth...Lupin quickly cut off that line of thought before he lost control of the wolf and gave away their cover by jumping Severus right there at the dinner table. 

To distract himself, he looked out across the hall at the students, many of whom gave him friendly, welcoming smiles; it seemed that most of them didn't hold his lycanthropy against him. He turned his gaze to the Slytherin table, wondering if he'd be able to recognize Dylan Rosier; he was quite curious about the boy who had managed to break through the Potions Master's armor...ah, there he was. There was absolutely no mistaking the boy, a perfectly blended combination of Evan's dark good looks and Ariane's poise and dignity. Lupin smiled, already feeling affection for the boy although he had never met him; Severus loved him, and that was enough to make Lupin care about him, too. Dylan's silver-gray eyes widened in surprise, and Lupin quickly looked away before anyone else noticed and wondered why he was staring at the Slytherin boy. He would have to be careful; Dylan was clearly as perceptive as Severus had claimed, and might notice more than Lupin intended him to, more than was safe for him to know...

*** 

As soon as they were alone in their dorm room, Dylan asked Damien, "All right, so what's the story with Professor Lupin? Why was Snape giving him the evil eye?"

"I'm more curious about Professor Blackmore," Damien said with a grin. "I'll give you the scoop on Lupin, if you tell me what you know about her."

"Fine," Dylan said, trying to hide his impatience before his friend began wondering why he was so curious about Lupin. "You first."

"Well, I don't know all the details, mind you," Damien said, "but I hear Lupin was a Gryffindor and a friend of Potter's father to boot--and we all know how much Snape hates Potter. Hated his dad, too, when they were kids, at least that's what my mother says."

Dylan nodded. "My mother said the same thing."

"Didn't know he was a werewolf until Snape exposed him, but looking back, it makes sense. He was always getting sick; we didn't notice till afterwards that he always got sick near the full moon." Damien frowned slightly. "He looks much better now, though; I wonder why? He always looked like he was ready to collapse when he was teaching here before. And his robes aren't all patched and faded like they used to be; I guess it's tough for werewolves to get work. Maybe Dumbledore gave him an advance on his wages so he could get some decent clothes."

"Could be," Dylan agreed. "What was he like as a teacher?"

"Don't tell Draco I said so," Damien warned, "but actually, he was pretty nice. He was always fair; even though he was a Gryffindor, he never favored them or gave us a hard time. And his lessons were always fun." He laughed as he told Dylan the story about how Lupin had taught his third-years to use the Riddikulus spell on a boggart, and how Neville Longbottom's spell had resulted in a Snape-boggart dressed in his grandmother's clothes. "I only wish I'd been there to see it!"

Dylan chuckled and shook his head. "No wonder Snape hates him!"

"Anyway, Lupin was the best DADA teacher we ever had, despite what Draco says. I mean, Lockhart was useless, and Umbridge's class was a total of waste of time. I suppose we did learn stuff in Moody's class, but..." Damien's voice trailed off, and Dylan grimaced. He had hated Moody, because Moody was the Auror who had killed his father, only it turned out that it wasn't Moody at all, but an impostor. Damien cleared his throat and said, "Anyway, I'm kind of glad Lupin's back, but like I said, don't tell Draco that."

"Your secret's safe with me," Dylan said lightly. So Lupin had been one of Snape's childhood enemies...it was difficult to tell, from the brief glimpses he had seen in Snape's memories, but Dylan thought there was more to it than that. There had been a very odd look in young-Snape's eyes as he spied on young-Lupin near the lake...

"So tell me about the lovely Professor Blackmore," Damien said, interrupting Dylan's thoughts.

Dylan grinned, setting aside his musings for another time. "Don't get your hopes up, Romeo! You might not think her so lovely once you hear my mother's stories about her."

"Like what?" Damien asked eagerly.

"Like all the students lived in fear of her, just like we do Professor Snape."

"No way!"

"Ask your mum, if you don't believe me. They used to say she has demon blood..."

*** 

Dylan found that most of his Slytherin yearmates shared Damien's opinion of Lupin, although they were too cowed by Draco to say so publicly. The Gryffindors, with whom they were sharing their DADA class, had no such reservations and were openly delighted to see him.

"Good morning," Lupin said cheerfully, as he walked into the classroom.

"Good morning, Professor!" the Gryffindors chorused heartily. The Slytherins mumbled inarticulate greetings, trying not to appear too enthusiastic, but it seemed that Lupin saw through their facade, because he smiled at them, a mischievous little twinkle in his eyes. A few of them smiled back shyly. 

"I'm very pleased to be back at Hogwarts teaching all of you again--" Lupin began.

"We're pleased to have you back, Professor!" Ginny Weasley said, and her housemates nodded emphatically.

"Suck-ups," Damien muttered under his breath, but without much rancor, because he was secretly just as glad to have Lupin back.

Lupin's eyes flickered over in their direction, and Damien gulped and slid down in his seat, but Lupin just smiled and winked at him. Dylan marveled at the sight; Snape would probably have handed out a detention or deducted at least ten points for that remark, and he probably would have deducted twenty points for Ginny's interruption. Of course, it was extremely unlikely that a Gryffindor would ever interrupt Snape to tell him that they were happy to see him!

"Well, teaching most of you again," Lupin corrected himself. "I see we have a new face in this class. You must be Dylan Rosier?"

"Yes, sir," Dylan said politely.

"I went to school with your father," Lupin said pleasantly. "You look very much like him--and like your mother, too, of course."

Dylan stared at Lupin wide-eyed, and an uneasy murmur rippled through the classroom. Everyone knew that Dylan's father had been a Death Eater, but no one--not even his housemates, except for Draco--discussed it openly. Was Lupin taunting him? But there was no malice in Lupin's blue eyes, and he was smiling at Dylan in a friendly, good-natured way.

Lupin ignored the murmurings of his students, and said, "This class is called Defense Against the Dark Arts, and that is precisely what we will be concentrating on this term: defense. You will learn protective magic, counter-curses, shield spells, stunning spells..."

"No boggarts?" someone muttered sarcastically from the back of the room. Dylan recognized the voice as Brad Doherty's; he was not in Draco's inner circle, but he was a hanger-on who was constantly toadying up to Draco. A few of the Slytherins snickered, and even a few Gryffindors smiled, perhaps thinking of the Snape-boggart Damien had mentioned.

"No, Brad, not today," Lupin said, still smiling pleasantly. Then his expression turned serious, and he said to the snickering and smiling students in a soft but stern voice, "This is no laughing matter. I am not teaching you these things merely to fulfill your course requirements, or even to prepare you for your O.W.L.s, but for your own protection. With Voldemort returned--" The entire class gasped in horror at hearing the Dark Lord's name spoken aloud. "--it is imperative that you learn to defend yourselves. Working towards that aim, the first spell you will be learning is the Patronus Charm. It is a very advanced spell, but I believe you are up to the challenge."

The class, much subdued after Lupin's lecture, listened attentively as he taught them the incantation and explained that they must concentrate very hard on a single, happy moment. Dylan hesitated for a moment over which memory to choose; most of his happy memories had dark clouds hanging over them: his pleasure at Goewin naming him as her heir had been shadowed by the knowledge that his uncles had conspired to rape her; his growing closeness to Professor Snape had come about only because he had been forced to join the Death Eaters; and his relief that Hermione no longer hated him was tempered by the fact that it was still impossible for them to resume their friendship. Finally, he decided that the moment he had learned of his admission to Hogwarts was probably his last moment of pure, unadulterated happiness before his growing doubts about the Death Eaters had begun to disturb his conscience and his peace of mind. He concentrated on that feeling of joy and triumph, pictured in his mind the pride in his mother's eyes as tears of happiness streamed down her face... "Expecto Patronum!" he shouted. A little silvery wisp emerged from the end of his wand.

"That's it?" he said in a disgruntled tone. Dylan had no false modesty; he knew he was a talented mage, he had been the top student of his age group for two years in a row, and he was used to being able to perform difficult spells with ease. This rather pathetic attempt at casting a Patronus came as somewhat of a blow to his pride. Still, he was doing better than Damien and most of his other classmates, who had not managed to conjure up so much as a wisp.

Lupin appeared at his side and smiled. "That's very good for a first try, Dylan. As I mentioned earlier, it is a very advanced spell, not usually taught to fifth-years."

Dylan felt a little better, until he noticed that Colin Creevey had managed to conjure up a fair-sized silver mist, and Ginny Weasley had actually conjured up a silvery cat! It was transparent and a bit wispy around the edges, but still, she had produced a recognizable Patronus on her first try! Was he really being outperformed by a couple of Gryffindors?!

His outrage must have been visible on his face, because Lupin looked amused. But he laid his hand on Dylan's shoulder in a kindly manner and said, "Don't feel bad. They've practiced this spell before."

"They have?" Dylan asked as he looked up at Lupin, startled. "But you said it's not taught to students our age--"

The corners of Lupin's lips twitched in amusement. "Not officially, no..."

"Dumbledore's Army!" Damien suddenly exclaimed, breaking off his unsuccessful attempts to cast the spell. He stared at the two Gryffindors, saying, "So that's what they were up to, with their little secret club!" Creevey and Ginny exchanged nervous looks.

"Unauthorized spell-casting!" Doherty snapped.

"Such extracurricular groups are no longer banned," Lupin said mildly, then smiled at Damien. "Very clever of you to figure it out, Damien; five points to Slytherin. Now, all of you get back to work, please." 

Lupin walked off to assist another student, and Dylan said incredulously, "He gave points to Slytherin!"

Damien nodded and whispered, "I told you he was fair." Then he noticed Doherty watching them suspiciously, and said loudly, "Expecto Patronum!" Brad turned away and Damien said in a low voice, "We don't want Brad squealing to Draco that we're sucking up to Lupin." Dylan nodded. "Expecto Patronum!"

"Hey, I think I saw something that time!" Dylan said.

"Really?" Damien asked, beaming happily. "Expecto Patronum!"

By the end of the class, Damien had managed to successfully cast a small silver wisp, and Dylan had produced a larger, though still vague, silver cloud, earning another ten points for Slytherin. Brad Doherty, Dylan noted with satisfaction, had not managed to cast anything at all, not even the tiniest wisp.

As they left the classroom, Dylan was surprised to realize that he liked Lupin. Of course, as a Slytherin and the son of a Death Eater, he was quite aware that people could be two-faced, but Lupin seemed to be genuinely kind and good-natured. And he had doled out points to the students without any apparent regard to their Houses; anyone who had managed to produce a silver wisp had earned five points, and he had awarded Dylan ten, since his had been the most successful casting aside from Creevey and Weasley, who'd had the advantage of prior experience. But Dylan felt a bit guilty for liking Lupin when Snape hated him. 

_But then again, Snape hates almost everyone,_ Dylan rationalized to himself. _It's not like I can go around hating everyone Snape hates!_ He was still puzzled by Lupin's casual mention of his father, and was dying to ask him about it, but it would probably not be wise to be seen behaving in a friendly manner towards Lupin, in case word got back to Snape, or Draco, for that matter. Dylan sighed wistfully; maybe Lupin could have told him more childhood stories about his father...despite the darker things he'd learned about Evan Rosier's past, he still loved his father and longed to know more about him. It was probably a hunger that would never truly be satisfied, since Dylan would never have the chance to meet his father, but Ariane's and Snape's stories about Evan made Dylan feel a little closer to him, somehow.

Dylan did not notice Lupin staring after him with a very thoughtful expression on his face.

*** 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed to Incantations and Summonings class, feeling excited and anxious at the same time. It was exciting to be among the first students allowed to learn Summonings spells in fifteen years, but on the other hand...

"You've seen the way Snape and Sirius cringe whenever she so much as raises her voice," Ron said glumly. "If Snape's bad, how much worse must she be when she gives out detention?"

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said impatiently. "She's a perfectly nice person; we lived in the same house with her for the last two months, and she didn't turn any of us into toads."

"She says toads are passe," Harry mumbled, recalling her words the day she and Lupin had met him at the station. He found them more ominous than reassuring.

"I'm sure she's a strict teacher," Hermione continued, "but as long as you stay out of trouble, you have nothing to worry about." She gave each of the boys a hard look. "And you _are_ going to stay out of trouble, aren't you?"

"We don't go looking for trouble--" Harry said defensively.

"Trouble comes looking for us," Ron finished. "Malfoy always--"

"You have to learn to ignore his insults," Hermione said, sounding annoyed. "When you let him get to you, you're only doing exactly what he wants. Don't forget that you're a prefect now, Ron Weasley!"

"I know," Ron replied, in a slightly whiny tone, "but Malfoy--"

"I'm sure Professor Blackmore can handle Malfoy," Hermione said smugly.

"I don't see why we've always got to be paired up with the Slytherins," Ron complained. "It's bad enough having Potions with them."

"Well, at least Blackmore won't favor them the way Snape does," Harry said, trying to sound consoling, although he was a little nervous as well.

The classroom was in one of the lower dungeon levels. It was a very spacious room, more than large enough to accommodate a double class. The students' desks were arranged in a semi-circle close to the walls, leaving an expanse of open floor between those desks and the teacher's desk at the head of the room.

The two boys looked a little puzzled. "Why so much open space?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Didn't you two even open your textbooks?" Hermione said, sounding impatient again. 

"What, before school even started?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I was too busy studying that Potions textbook," Harry muttered.

"Most Summonings spells require a circle of protection to be inscribed on the floor," Hermione explained. "Hence, the open space."

"'Hence'?" Ron muttered. "Who on earth says 'hence' these days?"

"I suppose you can't expect someone raised by Muggles to know about Summonings spells," Draco Malfoy drawled in a condescending tone as he and his cronies sauntered into the room. He conveniently chose to overlook the fact that Hermione, a Muggle by birth as well as upbringing, seemed to know quite a bit about such spells.

"Like you know so much yourself," Ron sneered.

"Ron," Hermione said in a warning tone.

"I know plenty!" Draco retorted, flushing slightly. "My dad--"

Just then, Professor Blackmore strode into the room, slamming the door loudly behind her, and the students all jumped. "In your seats!" she said sharply. "Now!" Her commanding tone of voice was not unlike Professor Snape's at his scariest, and the children instinctively found themselves rushing to obey before they could even think about it. Once everyone was seated, she said in a cold and imperious voice, "There will be no horseplay, no passing of notes, and no gossiping in my classroom. The spells I will be teaching you are powerful ones, and can be dangerous if misused or cast incorrectly. I expect to have your full attention at all times, IS THAT CLEAR, MISS PATIL?"

Parvati Patil, who had been leaning over to whisper something to Lavender Brown, nearly jumped out of her seat as Blackmore suddenly raised her voice and swiveled around to transfix the girl with her cold, green stare. "Y-yes, Professor," Parvati said weakly.

Blackmore definitely had everyone's undivided attention now. Even the Slytherins looked cowed, Goyle and Crabbe in particular. Draco's two henchmen were staring at their teacher, eyes round and saucer-like with fascination and horror. No one seemed to find it surprising that she knew Parvati's name without doing a roll call; this teacher seemed like she was capable of almost anything, including perhaps reading minds or being able to see what was going on behind her back. Or perhaps it was Bane who was keeping an eye on the class from his perch on her shoulder, communicating telepathically with his mistress...

"You will be summoning nothing until I am convinced that you are ready," Blackmore continued. "First of all, you must learn the proper incantations, and how to draw the protective circles. And most importantly, you must learn about the creatures you intend to summon--their strengths, their weaknesses, and how to bargain for their services. Open your books to Chapter One..."

At the end of the period, the students left the classroom groaning at the amount of homework she had heaped upon them. "Read two chapters on air elementals, memorize a summoning incantation, go to the library and research protective runes," Ron complained. "She's just as bad as Snape!"

"If you budget your time wisely, it shouldn't be a problem," Hermione said in the slightly superior, lecturing tone that the boys found so irritating. "Are you using that homework planner I gave you last Christmas?"

"Come on, we've got to hurry or we'll be late for Lupin's class!" Harry said, evading her question, and Ron shot him a grateful look. Hermione sighed heavily to let him know that he wasn't fooling her, but said nothing else as they hurried up the stairs.

"Thank Merlin that we've got at least one nice teacher this year," Ron said, not knowing that Lupin was about to surprise them in a rather unpleasant way...

*** 

"Why are we sharing our DADA class with Slytherin this year?" Ron complained loudly.

"I assure you, it's none of my doing, Weasley," Draco Malfoy said in a haughty voice. "I don't like it any better than you do."

"It was my decision, Ron," Lupin said in a cheerful voice as he entered the room. "Doubling up the classes gives me more time for office hours, in case any students need one-on-one tutoring--"

"You mean, in case some of the students," Draco sneered, shooting a meaningful glance in Neville Longbottom's direction, "are too incompetent to keep up in class."

"In case some of the students need extra help, yes," Lupin said mildly. "I am teaching all of my classes spells somewhat advanced beyond their grade levels, and there is no shame in asking for some help outside of class. But next time, please raise your hand if there is something you wish to say, Draco." Malfoy gave a little snort, but made no further comment, and Lupin continued in a pleasant voice, "And getting back to your original question, Ron, in light of the Sorting Hat's song, I also thought it might be a good idea to promote inter-House cooperation." The entire class, both Slytherin and Gryffindor, stared at him in disbelief. Lupin just smiled and gave them the same speech they would later learn he had given to all his other classes, about the importance of learning to defend themselves.

Draco yawned rudely during Lupin's speech, but Lupin either didn't notice or chose to ignore it. "We will begin with the Patronus Charm," Lupin said, winking at Harry, "which some of you have already had practice with." He told them how to cast the spell, then set them to work practicing it, while he slowly circled the classroom, observing their progress.

"Expecto Patronum!" Draco said, then scowled at his wand when nothing happened. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he repeated in a louder voice. This time a faint, silvery wisp emerged from his wand, and he smiled until he saw Harry and Hermione conjuring up full-fledged Patronuses--a shining silver stag and otter.

Ron could still only manage a nebulous silver mist, but he smiled smugly at the expression on Draco's face. "So, there are some things that a Muggle-born is better at than you, eh Malfoy?"

Draco flushed and snarled, "Shut your trap, Weasley! When my father--"

"What's your father going to do from Azkaban?" Ron sneered. "I may have been 'born in a bin,'" he said, referring to the song Draco had created to taunt Ron with last year, "but at least my father still has a respectable job at the Ministry, while yours--"

"Yours is a common criminal!" Harry finished vehemently, a look of fierce satisfaction on his face. "Now everyone knows what a low-life your father really is!"

Draco's face turned bright red, and Hermione looked worried, but before either of them could say anything, a voice behind them snapped, "Twenty points from Gryffindor!" All four of the children turned around to stare at Lupin in shock. "I'm very disappointed in both of you, Ron, Harry," Lupin said sternly. "Whatever bad blood there is between the three of you, I will not tolerate disruptive behavior in my class, and I will not allow you to make that sort of personal attack on a classmate's family members."

Harry just stared at Lupin with his mouth hanging open, while Ron stuttered, "B-but, M-Malfoy--"

"I don't need your help, werewolf!" Draco snarled furiously.

Lupin's gaze turned to the Slytherin boy, and he said coolly, "I don't care whether you need my help or not, Draco. I will not allow that kind of vicious, personal attack from anyone in any of my classes, be they Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff."

"B-but," Ron continued to stammer, clearly not knowing when to leave well enough alone, "y-you're a Gryffindor, and Malfoy's father--"

Now Lupin began to look angry, shocking the entire class; during the year he had spent at Hogwarts previously, they had never once seen him lose his temper, not even when Snape had exposed him as a werewolf. Although he was only lecturing Harry and Ron, everyone in the room stopped their spell-casting efforts to stare at him.

"In this classroom," Lupin said in a tone of voice more befitting Snape or Blackmore, "I am not a Gryffindor, but merely a teacher, and I treat all of my students equally!"

"But Snape always plays favorites--" Ron began to protest.

"Shut up, Ron!" Harry and Hermione hissed.

"I don't care what Professor Snape or the other teachers do in their classes," Lupin said firmly. "In my class, everyone will be treated equally and fairly." He paused and gave Draco an ironic little smile. "Whether they like it or not." Draco gave him an angry but slightly flustered look, and Lupin turned back to Harry and Ron. "If you have a problem with Mr. Malfoy, confront him about it directly--outside of the classroom. But to attack someone by attacking their loved ones is both cruel and cowardly. I expected better from you two."

Harry and Ron flushed, and surprisingly, so did Draco, although Harry was not sure whether that was because he was embarrassed by Lupin implying that he was soft enough to feel love, or because he was reminded that he had made a similar cowardly attack on Ron last year with his song. Harry had a hard believing that Malfoy's conscience was bothering him--or that he even had a conscience at all.

Lupin stared at the three boys, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I think, in addition to the points taken off, I would like you to write me an essay, Harry and Ron, on how prejudice helped to bring about the Goblin Wars of the 1600s. At least twelve inches of parchment, due Friday."

"What does that have to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Draco muttered.

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Are you volunteering to write the essay as well, Mr. Malfoy?"

"No, sir!" Draco said hastily. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged incredulous looks; that was the first time that Malfoy had ever called Lupin "sir".

"All right," Lupin said, clapping his hands together briskly, "everyone get back to work!" The other students, who had stopped to stare at the confrontation, looked up guiltily, and began shouting, "Expecto Patronum!" with a great deal of vigor, if not much visible success.

Lupin walked off, and Draco stared at him with a puzzled look on his face. "The werewolf's not as soft as he seems," Draco muttered.

Crabbe and Goyle were scratching their heads, looking even more confused than their leader. Harry thought to himself darkly that the sight of Lupin sticking up for a Slytherin had probably overloaded their miniscule brains.

"Why'd he help you, Draco?" Crabbe asked in a bewildered voice.

"Oh, shut up, you stupid lout!" Draco snarled. "Who knows why a werewolf does anything? Get back to casting your spell! Expecto Patronum!" His forehead furrowed in concentration, and he smiled in a nasty way, perhaps imagining a time in which he had gotten the better of Harry. "Expecto Patronum!" This time a larger silvery wisp emerged from his wand.

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, shrugged, and returned to their futile efforts at casting the Patronus Charm. They were looking rather frustrated by the time Lupin had circled the room once and returned to their corner. He smiled at them in an encouraging manner, and said kindly, "It's an advanced spell; it takes awhile to get the hang of it." The two boys smiled at him hesitantly, until they saw Draco glaring at them, then they hastily turned their smiles into scowls. Lupin's mouth twitched slightly, and he seemed to be trying very hard not to laugh. 

"We don't need help from a werewolf," Crabbe said loudly, and Draco slapped his forehead in frustration; he obviously hadn't intended for Crabbe to go that far.

"Ten points from Slytherin for speaking disrespectfully to a teacher," Lupin said in a stern voice, but his eyes were still laughing. He winked at Crabbe; Draco was too busy shaking his head to notice. Crabbe and Goyle looked even more befuddled than they had before. "However," Lupin continued, "if you did need help, I would remind you to concentrate very hard on that happy memory. For the charm to work, it must be a very strong memory, the happiest one you can remember."

Crabbe and Goyle frowned, appearing to be thinking very hard. _Is it really that hard for them to come up with a happy memory?_ Harry wondered, and for a moment he almost felt sorry for them. Then he shook his head; was he going mad? How could he be feeling sorry for Crabbe and Goyle, Draco's toadies? After all, Crabbe was the one who had deliberately thrown the Bludger at him during last year's Quidditch match!

Then, almost simultaneously, their faces lit up, and they held out their wands, a look of intense (for them) concentration on their faces as they said, "Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!" Two tiny threads of silvery smoke emerged from their wands on their third try.

"Very good, Vincent, Gregory!" Lupin said in a hearty voice, as if they had conjured full-fledged Patronuses, and the two boys beamed. Draco gave them a disgusted look, but this time they didn't seem to notice. "Five points to Slytherin for each of you!"

Harry was relieved when class was finally over, although he would have never thought before this that he'd be so glad to leave Lupin's presence. He was mostly confused, although a little angry and resentful, but Ron was downright outraged.

"How could he favor those Slytherin gits over us?!" he exclaimed.

Hermione frowned at him. "He wasn't favoring them," she said, leaping to Lupin's defense. "If you add up all the points he handed out, Slytherin and Gryffindor come out about equal. We'd even be ahead if you hadn't lost those twenty points he deducted!"

Ron scowled. "We didn't say anything that wasn't true! Lucius Malfoy IS a criminal and a low-life!"

"Yes, but it's not really appropriate to bring it up in the middle of class," Hermione said, almost primly. "Not just to get a rise out of Malfoy."

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" Harry asked, feeling a little hurt.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You two are my best friends, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to agree with you when you're obviously wrong!"

"Wrong?!" Ron shouted. "Malfoy provoked us!"

"He does most of the time, but actually, this time you started the fight, Ron."

Ron opened his mouth to protest, then thought about it and realized that she was right, and he flushed. Harry felt a little ashamed, but at the same time, still stubbornly defiant. "Okay, maybe we were a little out of line, but how many times has Draco stepped over the line without being punished? And I don't remember Lupin ever deducting points from anyone during third year!"

"We didn't share this class with Slytherin during third year," Hermione reminded him. She paused to think, then said, "Do you really want Lupin to act the way Snape does? The way the other teachers do, to a lesser extent? Even McGonagall favors her own House a little during Quidditch season. Do you want Lupin to blatantly favor the Gryffindors the way Snape favors the Slytherins?"

"Well, no," Harry muttered, "but..."

"Someone ought to favor us," Ron mumbled sullenly, "to make up for the way Snape caters to the Slytherins."

"I don't want him to favor us," Harry finally said in a quiet voice. "But it seemed like he was going out of his way to be nice to the Slytherins."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Hermione asked. "The Sorting Hat says all the Houses have to unite, or Hogwarts will fall."

"I can't imagine us ever 'uniting' with Slytherin," Ron grumbled.

"Would you rather Hogwarts fall?" Hermione retorted.

"I don't see how uniting with Slytherin is supposed to help," Ron said. "They're all Death Eaters, anyway!"

"Not all of them!" Hermione snapped. "Maybe not any of them, even if their parents are involved with--"

"Still hung up on that Rosier kid even after he dumped you?" Ron sneered, and Hermione looked hurt and furious.

Harry stared at his two friends in alarm; it wasn't like Ron to act so nasty, but he really had a chip on his shoulder about Dylan Rosier, for some reason. He quickly interrupted, trying to distract both of them. "Having points taken off and being given extra homework I can handle. What I don't understand is why Lupin was so quick to defend Lucius Malfoy; I mean, he knows Malfoy is a Death Eater, and they're responsible for almost killing Sirius..."

The anger drained from Hermione's face, and was replaced by a thoughtful expression. "He wasn't really defending Lucius Malfoy," she said slowly. "He was defending Draco. Maybe Mr. Malfoy is a really rotten person, but still, he's Draco's father, so Draco must love him. It must hurt to hear people saying bad things about his father, even if they're true."

"It's not like Draco ever stops to think about hurting other people's feelings," Ron protested, but in a slightly subdued voice. "How many times has he said nasty things about my folks, or Harry's, or yours?"

"It doesn't matter what Draco does," Hermione said, quietly but firmly. "Acting that way makes you no better than him."

Phrased that way, Harry finally got it, and his face turned bright red. So did Ron's.   "Besides," Hermione continued, "maybe Professor Lupin's trying to get through to Draco, and turn him away from the path of the Death Eaters."

"Then he's wasting his time," Ron muttered.

"Maybe not," Hermione replied. "After all," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, "everyone thought Professor Snape was a Death Eater."

Ron just snorted, but said nothing more as they headed to the Great Hall for lunch.

*** 

After lunch, they had Potions. "This is shaping up to be a great day," Ron muttered sarcastically.

Draco and a few other Slytherins, including Theodore Nott, were in Snape's advanced class, but not Crabbe and Goyle. "Guess favoritism only goes so far," Harry observed. This class, unlike the others they had taken up until now, consisted not of one or two Houses, but of a handful of students from each of the four Houses: the ones who had gotten sufficiently high scores on their O.W.L.s and whom Snape had deemed worthy of being in his class. Even if Harry had gotten a perfect score on his exam, he couldn't imagine Snape willingly admitting him to this class, so he supposed that Dumbledore must have ordered him to admit Harry and Ron, as Hermione had implied. To Harry's absolute shock, Neville was in this class as well. 

Neville smiled at Harry, looking proud and sheepish at the same time. "I did really well on my Potions exam," he said. "It wasn't so bad, without Professor Snape hovering over me and making me nervous. But I'm still surprised he let me into his class."

"You and me both," Harry replied, then Hermione glared at him, and he realized that had come out sounding a little rude. "Um, I mean I'm surprised Snape let ME in, too," he hastily clarified. "Considering how much he hates me and all."

Neville nodded, not looking offended at all, and Harry glanced around the room, curious to know who else had passed Snape's high standards (or who Dumbledore had forced Snape to take, depending on how you looked at it). From Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and Susan Bones had apparently made the cut, and smiled at Harry in a friendly way; they had all been members of Dumbledore's Army. Ravenclaw was represented by Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Parvati's sister Padma, and a quiet blonde girl named Lisa Turpin. The first three had all been members of Dumbledore's Army as well, but Ron was scowling a little at Michael. He had not liked the fact that Michael had been dating his sister last year, and although Ginny had broken up with him, he was still a little angry that Michael had "stolen" Cho from Harry, even though Harry had tried to assure him that wasn't how it had happened. He didn't even really miss Cho, although he felt a wistful little pang every now and then, but Ron seemed to take it personally. Harry smiled at his friend's loyalty, even if it was a bit misplaced. 

As for Lisa Turpin, she seemed nice enough, but Harry regarded her a bit warily, since she had attended the Yule Ball with Dylan Rosier during fourth year, and had been rumored to have been dating him for awhile. If there had been any romance between them, it seemed to have fizzled out, but she was still friendly with him. Ron regarded this as "associating with the enemy," even though Hermione was friends--or had been friends--with Dylan as well. Harry didn't want to condemn her out of hand; after all, most of the Gryffindor girls seemed to be enamored of the Slytherin boy's good looks as well, but he didn't trust Dylan Rosier. He didn't hate him the way Ron did, but after all, his father had been a Death Eater, and there was something about Dylan's manner that Harry didn't like: he was never rude, in fact, he was always polite to Harry and even Ron, no matter how rudely Ron treated him, but he was a little too polite, a little too smooth and self-possessed. The polite little smile he always wore, the cool look in his silvery-gray eyes, seemed like a mask; Harry had no idea what lay behind it, and that was what disturbed him even more than Rosier's parentage.

Thinking about Dylan Rosier caused Harry's gaze to slide over to where the Slytherins were sitting on the opposite side of the room. Malfoy was there, of course, along with Nott (a weedy-looking boy with dark hair and a sullen expression on his face), Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, and Blaise Zabini. Blaise was a quiet, serious-looking boy with dark hair and eyes who did not appear to be one of Draco's hangers-on, and rarely said anything in class, so Harry did not know much about him. At least by virtue of his silence, he was less annoying than most of his Slytherin classmates.

Snape swept into the room and slammed the door behind him, much as Blackmore had. He paused at the front of the room to gaze at his class silently for a moment, then his black eyes came to rest on Harry, and his mouth twisted in distaste as he said, "Well, Mr. Potter, much to my surprise, you managed to get an acceptable grade on your Potions O.W.L. Which means that you must have been slacking off in my class for the last five years." He paused, allowing the Slytherins to titter and snicker. Snape's voice hardened as he continued, "I won't tolerate that sort of laziness and slipshod work in this class, do you understand me, Mr. Potter?" Harry was silent, fighting back the urge to say something that would earn him a detention. "When I ask you a question, I expect an answer, Potter!"

"Yes, sir," Harry said through gritted teeth as the Slytherins laughed again. He forgot the other side of Snape he'd seen during the summer, forgot--for the moment--how Snape had saved Sirius. _How could Lupin love a slimy git like you?_ Harry wondered bitterly. 

Snape's eyes narrowed, and Harry, remembering what Snape had told him about Legilimency, quickly averted his eyes. Snape looked at him suspiciously for a moment, then turned to Neville and said in a cold voice, "The same goes for you, Mr. Longbottom. Your previous standard of work in my class is simply unacceptable, despite the miracle that you managed to pull off on your O.W.L. If you do not show any improvement, you will not remain in this class; is that clear, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville turned ghostly white, but managed to look Snape in the eye and say firmly, "Yes, sir."

Snape's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "My, my," he said mildly. "Grown a spine over the summer, have we?" Neville's face turned red, the Slytherins outright howled with laughter, and Ron and Harry shot Snape evil looks, while Hermione gazed at him with a look of disappointment. Snape scowled, seeming to be more offended by Hermione's look than Ron's and Harry's, for some reason. "Enough!" Snape snapped, and the laughter instantly ceased. "There is no time for fun and games in this class!"

_Then why don't you leave off picking on Neville?_ Harry thought angrily.

"The Headmaster wishes you to learn things that will be useful in combat and defense," Snape said with a sneer, looking rather peeved, and remembering Lupin's lecture, Harry wondered if that had actually been Lupin's idea. Was that why Snape looked so ticked off? But wasn't Lupin his lover? Was this nasty act really just an act? Trying to figure out which parts of Snape's personality were real and which were feigned was giving Harry a headache... "Are you paying attention, Mr. Potter?" 

"Yes, sir," Harry said, snapping back to reality at the sound of Snape's curt voice. "Combat and defense."

"Correct," Snape said, sounding disappointed that Harry didn't give him an excuse to take points off Gryffindor. "Your first assignment will be to brew a Healing Potion, which you will no doubt find quite useful, considering the amount of trouble you seem to stir up, Potter." Harry scowled and Snape smiled. "The instructions are on the blackboard," he said, flicking his wand in that direction, and the words magically appeared. He flicked his wand again, and the door of the stores cupboard popped open. "The ingredients are in the cupboard. Begin."

The potion, of course, was a complicated one--Snape would never assign them anything easy, even if this hadn't been his advanced class--and all the ingredients had to be prepared just so, or the efficacy of the potion would be lessened. Harry began slicing nettle leaves and stems, wincing as the tiny spines on the plant pricked and stung his fingers. Sticky sap oozed out from the stem pieces onto the cutting board. Snape slowly walked around the room, pausing by Harry's desk. "Slice those nettles more carefully, Potter," he said coldly. "You're wasting the sap, and if you lose too much of it, the potion won't work as it should." He smiled at Harry maliciously. "And you and your little friends suffer so many dangerous mishaps; it would be a pity if you or they ended up receiving a weakened or useless Healing Potion, wouldn't it, Potter?"

Harry dumped the nettle pieces into his cauldron, being careful to scrape the sap off his cutting board into the cauldron as well. He picked up a valerian root and began slicing it; Snape continued to hover over him, showing no inclination to move on. Harry ground his teeth together as he sliced and diced, finding it difficult to concentrate with Snape looming over him like that. Snape said in that soft, sarcastic voice he often liked to use on Harry, "You are losing control, Potter."

Harry looked up, startled. Those were almost the exact same words Snape had used during their Occlumency lessons! Was Snape just taunting him, or was he actually trying to help Harry? Harry stared at Snape; his mouth was curled in a sneer, but his black eyes were as blank and unreadable as Dylan Rosier's. Harry took several deep breaths, trying to let go of his anger, and resumed chopping roots. Snape watched him for another minute or two, but Harry ignored him, and Snape moved on to observe Neville. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but then felt sorry for his friend, and looked over to see how he was doing. Neville looked a little nervous, but was working with very slow and precise movements.

"You'll be at that all day if you don't pick up the pace a bit, Longbottom," Snape said sourly, apparently finding nothing else he could criticize and moved on. He scolded Justin and Susan for not chopping their roots finely enough, and growled at Michael to stir his potion more carefully, startling him and nearly causing him to knock over his cauldron, but no one made any disastrous mistakes. To Harry's surprise, Snape actually scolded Pansy Parkinson for adding too much lavender oil to her potion. The girl sulked, but did so silently, for not even the Slytherins dared to talk back to Snape. 

Hermione, of course, made no mistakes and brewed her potion perfectly. Snape scowled ferociously; obviously he was not going to give points to Gryffindor no matter how well Hermione did, which made Harry seethe at Snape's unfairness although Hermione looked unperturbed. Snape did loudly praise Draco's potion, of course, and awarded twenty points to Slytherin as Draco gloated smugly. Snape paused to examine Blaise Zabini's potion, and said, sounding a little surprised, "Well done, Zabini." Apparently even Snape tended to overlook the unassuming boy in class, even though he was one of Snape's Slytherins. "Ten points to Slytherin." Malfoy looked a little annoyed at that, and Blaise squirmed nervously. 

Snape strode back to the front of the room, saying briskly, "Pour your potions into the flagons, label them, and bring them to my desk. They need to steep for a few days, and then perhaps we'll try them out and see how effective they are." He grinned sadistically as his students exchanged worried looks. "For your homework, read chapters six and seven of your text, and prepare a list of at least a dozen common herbs and their healing properties. Class dismissed."

"We'll be up all night doing all this homework!" Ron groaned. 

Harry and Hermione ignored Ron's complaints, which were so familiar by now that they could almost automatically tune them out. "That's the first time I've ever really noticed Blaise Zabini in class," Harry said. "Snape actually praised him!"

"Yes, and Snape rarely praises anyone, even the Slytherins, except for Malfoy," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Blaise is a pretty good student; he's ranked in the top twenty-five percent of our age group for the last four years--"

"Do you have everyone's rank memorized, Hermione?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, and you aren't in the top quarter, Ron," she retorted. "Anyway, as I was saying, Blaise is a good student, but he's never really been outstanding in Potions before--"

"Dylan has been helping him," Lisa Turpin said quietly, as she came up alongside them. Harry and the others turned to give her a startled look. "Everyone knows that Dylan is Snape's best Potions student even though he's a year younger than us, and Blaise is his friend, so he helped Blaise study and pass his Potions O.W.L. last year."

"Well, you're awfully friendly with the Slytherins," Ron said, sneering a little.

"There's nothing wrong with that!" Lisa snapped, glaring at him. "Didn't you hear what the Sorting Hat said, about the Houses having to get along together? Do you think it would have changed its song if it wasn't important? Besides, Dylan's a nice person, and so is Blaise! Not all of the Slytherins are like Draco Malfoy!"

"That's right!" Padma chimed in as she joined the little group gathered in the hall.

"You're forgetting Dylan is Draco's buddy!" Ron said, giving the two Ravenclaw girls a disgusted look. "You're letting yourself be blinded by his pretty face!"

"Maybe you're just jealous, Ron Weasley," Padma said with a disdainful little sniff, "that Dylan is a hundred times more handsome and charming than you'll ever be!" She glared at him, perhaps recalling how Ron had ignored her at the Yule Ball two years ago. "Dylan is a gentleman who knows how to treat a lady--unlike you!"

Padma and Lisa stalked off in a huff, while Ron spluttered and called after them, "Women! You're so fickle! Whatever happened to that Beauxbatons boy you were so crazy about, Padma? Forgot about him as soon as someone new came along, huh?"

The girls ignored him, and Michael Corner and Terry Boot chuckled. "It does gets a little old, hearing all the time about how wonderful Dylan Rosier is," Michael said good-naturedly, "but he seems okay, for a Slytherin."

"Easy for you to say," Terry laughed, "when you don't have to compete with Dylan for the attention of all the eligible girls in school! You've already got Cho--" He hastily broke off his sentence when he saw Ron glaring at him.

"Listen, Potter," Michael said nervously, "I hope there's no hard feelings--"

"No hard feelings," Harry said firmly, ignoring Ron's look of outrage. "It was already over between Cho and me; I...I hope you guys are happy together." He was surprised to find that he meant it. He held out his hand, and Michael shook it, looking relieved, while Ron gawped at them.

"I'm really proud of you Harry," Hermione said as they continued on their way to their next class.

Harry grinned, feeling surprisingly lighthearted despite all the homework they had received and the misgivings he'd had about Lupin's treatment of the Slytherins. "It's no big deal; I'm totally over Cho."  "Really?" Ron asked.

"Really," Harry replied.

"Then you're an eligible man again!" Ron said, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulders. "With plenty of eligible ladies to choose from!" Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes, and Harry laughed.

*** 

There was a knock at Snape's office door. "Come in," he said, looking up from the parchment on which he was scribbling notes for a future lesson.

"Professor?" Draco Malfoy asked. "Could I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yes, but make it quick." Snape glanced at the hourglass sitting on his desk. "It's almost time for dinner." And as soon as dinner was over, he could meet Lupin in his quarters...

"Yes, sir," Draco replied. "Professor Lupin did something odd today..." He explained how Lupin had defended him against Potter and Weasley, and had even taken points off Gryffindor. "What do you think it means, sir?"

Snape frowned, absent-mindedly tapping his quill against the parchment, dotting it with spots of black ink. What was Lupin up to? Did he really think he could get through to Draco Malfoy? _I thought he was going to leave that up to me,_ Snape thought. Well, Lupin was a soft touch; he might feel sorry even for a boy as unpleasant as Malfoy, but still, Snape was surprised that he would take points off not only from his own House, but from his dear friend's son, the golden boy Potter. Besides, Lupin was so soft that Snape thought a student would have to burn down the classroom before the werewolf would take points from them; he usually let the brats off with a warning. But then again, they had both changed during the two years that had passed since Lupin had left Hogwarts...

Snape shrugged and said sarcastically, "It's not as if I can claim to know how a werewolf's mind works, Malfoy," and Draco flushed. "But Lupin has always been a bit of a bleeding heart; his concern was probably genuine."

"I don't need a werewolf feeling sorry for me," Draco said sullenly.

"Of course not," Snape replied coolly. "But remember what I said about keeping up a respectable appearance--it won't hurt to humor the werewolf a bit."

Draco looked indignant. "But--aren't you angry that he's back? Aren't you going to try to get rid of him?"

Snape gave Draco a sour look. "Everyone already knows that he's a werewolf; he doesn't have any other deep, dark secrets that I can expose." _Except that he's sleeping with the Potions Master,_ Snape thought to himself with amusement. "Besides, werewolf or not, Lupin is softhearted and relatively harmless, unlike, say, Mad-Eye Moody..."

Draco's face turned bright red with anger and embarrassment as he remembered the bouncing ferret incident from fourth year. "Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"Run along then, Mr. Malfoy, and try to stay out of trouble."

Draco paused at the door and said, "Sir? Have you...heard anything about when my father--?"

"I told you never to question our Master's judgment," Snape said in a quiet, deadly voice, and Draco turned pale.

"Y-yes sir, I know, but it's been so long..."

Snape rose from his seat behind the desk and glided over to Draco. "The Dark Lord waited over a decade before he rose again," he whispered menacingly, as Draco cringed away from him. "He probably thinks it won't hurt your father to wait a few months." Snape's voice rose to a more normal level. "And don't you ever mention such things again unless I give you permission! What if someone had overheard you?!"

"Y-yes, sir," Draco stammered. "I'm sorry, sir."

"All things happen in their proper time, Draco," Snape said, taking a step back. "Tend to your studies, and let your elders tend to...that other matter we discussed. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Get out of here before you're late for dinner, Malfoy."

*** 

Draco stomped off to the Great Hall, feeling rather cranky. Nothing had gone right for him since his father had been captured. He had tried to do as Professor Snape had suggested, and step up to be the "man of the family," but although his mother had smiled and thanked him for his efforts with a kiss on the cheek, she still looked pale and tense most of the time. Narcissa Malfoy rarely left the house anymore, because she couldn't stand the knowing looks people gave her on the street, and the way that former "friends" and acquaintances who had always deferred to her before now shunned her. One night during the summer, she had Disapparated, wearing her Death Eater robe, and when she returned, her face was ghostly white and filled with fear. Draco had thought he'd seen a spot of blood on the sleeve of her robe, but she had locked herself in her room and refused to talk about it. Draco, his ear pressed up against the door, had heard her weeping, and felt helpless. He was relieved when he had to depart for school, although he also felt guilty for leaving his mother alone, but he thought perhaps she was relieved as well, to not have to keep up a brave face for him.

But he had returned to Hogwarts to find that some of his housemates were behaving insolently and ignoring his authority; the fools obviously thought that his father's imprisonment was going to be permanent--little did they know! But doubt gnawed at him; it had been more than three months now--when was the Dark Lord going to free his father? His concern was so great that it had caused him to ignore his common sense and go to Professor Snape--which had not done any good, and had earned him nothing but a scolding.

And Blaise Zabini had earned a rare compliment from Snape in Potions class today, which irritated Draco. He comforted himself with the fact that Snape had awarded him twice the points he'd awarded Blaise, but it was cold comfort, because something deep inside of him suspected that Snape only handed out praise and points to him because Lucius Malfoy was his superior in the Death Eaters. Zabini's family were old blood, but had fallen on hard times; they had no money and no influence, nor were they Death Eaters, so Snape's praise must have been genuine, and the Potions Master handed out sincere praise perhaps once in a blue moon. Draco hated being upstaged, particularly by someone like Blaise, who had been a nonentity up until now: he always sat quietly in the back of the classroom, never speaking unless called upon, and while he did well enough in class, he did not do so well as to attract special attention from his teachers, unlike, say, Dylan Rosier...

Thinking about Dylan made Draco grind his teeth in frustration. Although he had befriended the younger boy at his father's behest, and had actually liked him at first, he was growing increasingly jealous of Dylan's popularity. Oh, Dylan knew his place, and was always properly respectful and deferential to Draco, but even that was beginning to become annoying; he longed for an excuse to take Dylan down a peg or two, but Dylan was careful never to give it to him. Draco was getting sick of the way all the girls fawned over the boy; even the Gryffindor girls, who had always turned their noses up at the Slytherins, chased after him shamelessly. And worse, everyone knew that Dylan was Snape's pet; it was Dylan who earned most of those rare words of praise that the Potions Master doled out so sparingly. Fortunately, Dylan was not in Draco's class, so he didn't have to watch it, which was the only thing that made the situation tolerable, but still, it rankled. Draco was the son of Lucius Malfoy, who was first among the Death Eaters, so Draco should likewise be first in all things in Slytherin House. 

That was why it was unforgivable that Dylan had been the first among the younger generation to be made a Death Eater. Draco still couldn't understand why Rosier had been singled out over him. Was he not Lucius Malfoy's son? Was he not versed in the Dark Arts? Yes, he still had a lot to learn, but so did Rosier, and Draco was a year older than him! What the hell was so special about Dylan Rosier?!

"Oh, Draco, there you are," Goyle said, as he and Crabbe fell into step beside Draco. "We were wondering were you went."

"Don't think too hard," Draco snarled, "or you'll probably sprain your brain!" Crabbe giggled nervously, while Goyle looked a little hurt. "And you had better not let me catch you sucking up to the werewolf again!" Draco added.

His two henchmen mumbled apologetically, and Draco's anger shifted from Dylan to Lupin, but his anger was tinged with confusion. Why on earth had Lupin helped him? Not that he needed the werewolf's sympathy! But Lupin was supposed to have been a friend of Potter's father, so why would he stand up to Potter and Weasley for Draco's sake? It just didn't make sense. Was Lupin really as softhearted as Snape seemed to think he was, or was he somehow subtly mocking Draco? But Lupin's anger with Potter and Weasley had seemed to be sincere...

Draco kept hearing Lupin's quiet voice saying, "But to attack someone by attacking their loved ones is both cruel and cowardly." Draco flushed, feeling a little of ashamed of himself, although he wasn't exactly sure why. He had verbally attacked Weasley's and Potter's families many times; so what? Only softhearted fools felt guilt over things like that! Lupin had been absent from Hogwarts for two years, but he wasn't a complete fool; he must be aware of how Draco normally treated Potter and Weasley, even if he didn't know all the specifics. So, considering all that, why was Lupin still defending him? Was the werewolf soft in the head as well as the heart? _And why on earth am I worrying so much about what the werewolf thinks of me?_ Draco asked himself in disgust, and tried to put those bothersome thoughts out of his head.

*** 

Draco was uncommonly testy at dinner that night. The other Slytherins were already seated at the dinner table when Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle arrived, and even though the trio's usual seats had been left vacant, Draco snapped at Dylan, "Get out of my seat, Rosier!"

Dylan looked up at him in surprise, and Damien said, "But isn't that your seat over there?"

"My seat is wherever I say it is, Pierce!" Draco snarled.

Dylan immediately got up and moved to one of the empty seats, saying humbly, "I'm sorry, Draco," but Draco only looked even more annoyed. Draco was not the only one in a bad mood; Snape looked more sour than usual, and kept making comments to Professor Lupin, who smiled back at him cheerily; the more Lupin smiled, the angrier Snape got. Finally Professor Blackmore snapped at him--they were too far away to hear her exact words, but it was obviously something along the lines of "Give it a rest!" Snape glared at her, but left off his taunting of Lupin and turned his attention back to his meal. 

After dinner, Dylan, Damien, Blaise, and Theodore sat together in a corner of the Slytherin common room near the fireplace to work on their homework. A gaggle of giggling girls pretended to study nearby, but kept glancing over at Dylan, trying to catch his eye. He ignored them, but Damien winked at them, and they giggled again and looked away.

Dylan tapped Damien's textbook and said, "Pay attention, Romeo! Mother says Professor Blackmore is a tough teacher, and your grades weren't so hot last year." 

"Slave driver," Damien grumbled, but obeyed, and began reading about air elementals while Dylan and Blaise began copying runes out of a library book.

"No, not like that," Dylan said. "There's more of an upward curve at the end--like this, see?"

"Yeah, I get it now," Blaise said. "You're really good at this, Dylan. I'm glad that Incantations is a new class, so we're all at the same level and have the same homework even though we're in different years."

Dylan smiled modestly. "Well, this was my mother's favorite class, so she taught me a lot about how to draw the runes and circles even though she never actually let me summon anything."

"Ssst!" Damien hissed to catch Dylan's attention, and let his eyes slide over to the other side of the fire, where Serafina Avery had settled down with a textbook and was diligently taking notes. "Think she's joined your fan club, Dylan?" he whispered. "She usually doesn't hang around near us."

Dylan watched the girl out of the corner of his eye. She was one of their yearmates, and was the daughter of the Death Eater Avery, who was currently residing in Azkaban with Lucius Malfoy. She was a thin, almost scrawny girl with mousy-brown hair, and there was nothing exceptional about her except for her eyes, which were a startling shade of blue-violet. She didn't fawn on Draco or hang out with the other Death Eater offspring; in fact, she didn't seem to have any friends at all, and if that bothered her, she never gave any sign of it.

Dylan shrugged. "I doubt it. She's never flirted with me; I don't think she's ever even spoken to me. Anyway, she's not really my type."

"So who is your type?" Damien asked with a suggestive grin.

Dylan just laughed. "I told you, I'm too young to settle down! And you won't graduate if you spend more time staring at girls than studying!"

"Yes, Professor Rosier," Damien said, pretending to be chastened.

"Uh oh," Theodore said, looking up from his book nervously. "Malfoy's heading this way, and he's been pissed off all day." Theodore catered to Draco nearly as much as Crabbe and Goyle did, but he seemed to do it more out of self-preservation than any real liking for Malfoy, and preferred to spend his free time with Dylan's crowd.

"You had better not ever try to show me up in Potions class again, understand, Zabini?" Draco snapped.

"Sorry, Draco," Blaise said meekly. "I didn't mean to." 

Dylan and Theodore exchanged quick looks; Theo had told his younger friends what had happened in Lupin's and Snape's classes, when they had asked why Draco was in such a bad mood.

Draco noticed that glance and snarled, "And what are you and Zabini doing hanging out with the fifth-years, Nott?"

"Dylan was just helping us with our homework," Theodore started to reply, then immediately realized he had made a mistake when Draco turned on Dylan.

"And you think you're such hot stuff, Rosier!" Draco shouted. "Think you're smart enough to be teaching older students? Maybe you should tell Dumbledore to go ahead and let you replace Snape, you're so good! Or maybe you could take over Defense Against the Dark Arts, then we can get rid of the werewolf!"

"It's not like that, Draco," Dylan protested in a soft voice, trying to look contrite. "It's just that my mother taught me a lot about Summonings spells, because she met my dad in that class--"

"Who's in charge of Slytherin House, Rosier, you or me?" Draco roared, grabbing the front of Dylan's robe.

"Whoa, take it easy, Draco!" Dylan exclaimed, beginning to get a little worried. Was he going to have to hex Draco in self-defense? That would be disastrous, even if it didn't get him expelled. "You are, of course!"

"Actually," a quiet voice said, "that would be Professor Snape."

Draco let go of Dylan, and turned to stare at Serafina Avery. "I wasn't talking to you, Avery!" he said in a dangerous voice.

She didn't look particularly frightened, and just stared back at him with that blank, emotionless look she always wore. "Fine," she said indifferently. "But if I were you, I wouldn't let Professor Snape catch me saying that."

"Well, you're not me!" Draco snapped, leaning down and placing his face close to hers in order to give her a menacing glare. "Don't forget that my father outranks yours!" he hissed.

Her beautiful violet eyes stared at him blankly. "Our fathers are both in prison," she said in a toneless voice. "So it doesn't matter much, does it?" Draco's mouth dropped open, and as the other students stared in astonishment, she calmly picked up her books and headed to the girls' dorm. Draco turned white with rage and stomped off to his own room.

"What the--?" Theodore gasped.

"She must have a thing for you, Dylan," Damien said, his eyes wide, "to stand up to Malfoy for you like that!"

Dylan shook his head in confusion. "She's never even looked twice at me. Theo, your family is friends with hers, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't really know her," Theo replied. "I mean, we saw each other at parties and stuff, but we never talked much. She never talked to anyone, really, would just sit around with her nose stuck in a book until her mother took it away and made her go and 'socialize'. Which meant that she just stood around with the rest of the kids not saying a word."

Dylan sighed wearily. "I'd better go make peace with Draco before things get worse."  "Is that safe?" Blaise asked, looking concerned.

"I'll just have to grovel a little to soothe his pride," Dylan said, making a face. "I don't think he's really mad at me; he's just on edge because his dad..." His voice trailed off, remembering that Theodore's dad was in prison as well. "Sorry, Theo."

Theo shrugged and mumbled, "It's not like I miss him; he can stay there for all I care."

There was an uneasy silence; none of his three friends knew much about his family other than that Mr. Nott was a Death Eater, and that Theo didn't seem to be very close to them. Dylan cleared his throat and said, "Well, I've got to go talk to Draco," and left for the boys' dorm as the other boys picked up their books and began studying again, in a much more subdued manner.

Draco was the only student in Slytherin--probably the whole school--who had a room to himself. Dylan knocked on the door and called, "Draco?"

"Go away, Rosier!" Draco snapped.

Dylan opened the door anyway, hoping that his apology would cancel out his disobedience, and entered the room. "Draco, I just wanted to apologize--" The other boy jumped up from his bed with a start and turned away, running his sleeve across his face. _Is Draco Malfoy...crying?_ Dylan wondered disbelievingly. 

"I told you to go away, Rosier!" Draco snarled, with his back still turned to Dylan.

Dylan quickly shut the door behind him before anyone walked by and saw them, which Draco would really find unforgivable. "I'm sorry, Draco, for stepping out of line earlier. I didn't mean to do it, honestly, and it won't happen again." Draco just grunted and made a dismissive gesture. "And..." Dylan hesitated, then said in a quieter voice, "I'm really sorry about your dad."

"What would you know about it?" Draco snarled as he spun around to face Dylan; his eyes were red.

"I lost my dad, too," Dylan reminded him in that quiet voice. "Permanently."

"Yeah, that's right," Draco said, suddenly sounding less angry.

"I never even got to meet him," Dylan said. "He was killed before I was born; all I have are my mother's pictures and stories of him. Professor Snape's told me a little about him, too. That's why I try so hard to make Snape like me; not because I want to take your place as leader of Slytherin, but so he'll talk to me about my dad. He only does it when he's in a good mood, and you know how often Snape is in a good mood..."

Draco actually laughed a little. "Well, you are pretty good in Potions," he conceded.

"So are you," Dylan said.

"Yeah, but maybe Snape only gives me good grades because of who my father is," Draco said unhappily.

Dylan tried to hide his surprise; it was unheard of for Draco to admit to a weakness or insecurity. "No, you really are good, Draco," he said firmly. "You've never melted your cauldron like Longbottom, have you? Or made a flagon explode, like Goyle?" Draco snickered, looking somewhat cheered, and Dylan continued, "Besides, you're at the top of all your other classes, and those teachers aren't Slytherins." It was not quite true; Hermione outranked Draco in at least half of those classes, but Draco was right behind her, and a little flattery never hurt.

"That's right," Draco said proudly, holding his head up high. He gave Dylan a companionable slap on the back and said, "You're all right, Rosier." Dylan smiled at him in relief; it seemed like things were back to normal again. "Say...Dylan?" Draco asked in an uncharacteristically hesitant voice.

"Yes?"

"Do you know anything about my dad?" he asked anxiously. "I mean, I know I shouldn't ask, but do you know when they're going to break him out?"

Draco looked oddly young and vulnerable, which made Dylan feel uncomfortable. Their friendship was one of convenience, and he had never really liked Draco, but Dylan found himself feeling sorry for the other boy now. He hated Lucius Malfoy, but he understood what Draco was going through. Dylan had the sudden, very disturbing thought that the families of the Mudbloods and Muggle-borns that Evan Rosier had killed probably didn't think too kindly of him, either. "I really don't know, Draco," Dylan replied softly. "I've only been to that one meeting."

"That's all?" Draco asked incredulously, but he seemed a little happier even though he still looked worried. 

_Probably glad that he hasn't missed out on as much "fun" as he thought,_ Dylan thought sourly. _I'd gladly trade places with him if I could!_ Aloud, he said, "You know I'm not supposed to talk about it, Draco," he warned. "But I can't Apparate, so I can't go to meetings unless someone else takes me."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Draco said, comprehension dawning in his eyes. "So you really don't know?" he asked, disappointed.

"No," Dylan replied. "But I'm sure it will happen soon. Our Master needs his followers, after all. I'm sure he has some sort of plan, but I'm just not important enough to be entrusted with it." Dylan was just talking off the top of his head, but Draco seemed to find it reassuring, and it probably was true that the Dark Lord wouldn't trust him with anything important since Dylan had joined the Death Eaters under coercion.

"Will you tell me if you hear anything?" Draco pleaded.

Dylan hesitated. Snape would kill him if he gave away Death Eater secrets to Malfoy, and more importantly, the Dark Lord might hurt his mother; he had not forgotten Voldemort's threat that Ariane would suffer if Dylan needed to be punished. "If I can," he hedged. "Besides, I'm not likely to be part of the rescue team, so I might not hear about it till you do, anyway."

To Dylan's relief, Draco didn't argue with him. "Okay," he said. "Thanks, Dylan." As Dylan turned to leave, he added, "Oh, and my dad told me some stories about your dad and his friend Wilkes. I...I could tell you about them sometime, if you like."

"Sure, I'd like that," Dylan said, surprised at how agreeable Malfoy was being. "Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Rosier."

Dylan returned to the common room thinking that Draco might not be so bad without his father giving him an inflated sense of self-importance all the time. He wondered when the Dark Lord would break out the prisoners, and what would happen after that. Thinking about that made him uneasy, and he began to wish that Voldemort would leave Lucius and the others in Azkaban, even if it meant he would have to put up with Draco's bad moods...

*** 

Snape went to his quarters after dinner, and a few minutes later, Lupin emerged from his fireplace. Snape, paranoid as only a former Death Eater could be, had set wards around the fireplace allowing only certain people to enter through it; Lupin, of course, was one of those people.

"Hello, Severus," Lupin said with a grin. "I brought you a gift." He held up a box of Honeyduke's fudge.

"Is that supposed to be a bribe, Lupin?" Snape asked, crossing his arms over his chest, pretending to be indignant. "To make me forgive you for the way you kept rubbing your foot against my leg under the table?"

"No, Sev," Lupin replied, still grinning. "I was thinking more of the aphrodisiacal qualities of chocolate; I brought these to put you in the mood." 

"I've been in the mood for the last half-hour," Snape growled playfully, wrapping his arms around Lupin and pulling him close. "I don't need any chocolate for that!"

"Perhaps later, then," Lupin laughed. "To put you back in the mood for a second round...maybe even a third...?"

"First things first," Snape said, and sealed Lupin's mouth with a kiss. 

 

Much later, they lay together in bed feeding each other chocolates. "So, Lupin," Snape said, "what are you up to with Draco Malfoy?"

"Up to?" Lupin asked innocently, holding out another piece of chocolate. Snape leaned over and took the piece of candy with his mouth, allowing his lips and tongue to brush against Lupin's fingers. Lupin shivered with pleasure. Snape grinned wickedly and Lupin shivered again.

Snape chewed and swallowed, then replied, "You know what I mean, Lupin. I heard from Malfoy about how you came to his rescue." He frowned slightly. "Are you trying to win over Draco? I thought you said Draco wasn't likely to listen to 'some impoverished Gryffindor werewolf'."

"I wasn't trying to step on your toes, Severus," Lupin said apologetically, but Snape shook his head.

"That's not what I meant, Lupin. If you can get through to Draco, more power to you. I'm just surprised that you took his part against Potter. I hear you even took points from Gryffindor?"

Lupin rolled his eyes impatiently. "Like I told the students, in the classroom I'm a teacher, not a Gryffindor! Just how long after we graduate are we supposed to carry on these silly House rivalries? What kind of teacher would I be if I played favorites?"

"One like me, I suppose," Snape muttered sulkily.

Lupin leaned closer and nuzzled his cheek affectionately. "Yes, but you do it to keep your cover with the Death Eaters."

Snape flushed, looking rather shamefaced. "Don't make me out to be more noble than I am, Remus," he said sharply. "Yes, I cater to Lucius and the others by spoiling their children, but even if I didn't have to, I'd still probably favor my own House." He added in a bitter voice, "Why shouldn't I? No one else cuts the Slytherins any slack, and the other teachers all play favorites as well..."

"Does that make it right?" Lupin asked gently, and Snape's flush grew deeper. "Besides, you're wrong. I know most of the other teachers play favorites, and maybe some of them are biased against the Slytherins, but not Branwen. She never played favorites when we were children, and she tried very hard to save her Slytherin students."

"I know," Snape sighed guiltily. "Not that we appreciated it at the time."

"Harry and Ron were taunting Draco about his father being in prison," Lupin said, looking genuinely distressed.

"It's not like Malfoy hasn't done the same thing to them," Snape pointed out, some perverse little part of him deciding to play devil's advocate.

"That doesn't justify what they did," Lupin insisted. "Responding to cruelty with more cruelty only creates a vicious circle. They're both good kids; I didn't expect this from them."

"As I recall," Snape said sarcastically, "everyone thought Potter senior and Black were 'good kids,' too." Lupin sighed, with that sad "Are you ever going to let go of the past, Severus?" look in his eyes. Feeling guilty and irritated at the same time, he muttered, "Well, at least Potter and Weasley haven't tried to feed Malfoy or Rosier to a werewolf yet."

Lupin laughed. Even if Severus was still having trouble letting go of his childhood grudges, at least he was able to joke about them; Lupin thought that was a good sign. "Well, there is that," he chuckled. "But then again, there are no werewolves that I know of in Gryffindor House at present!" Snape rolled his eyes, but he no longer looked irritated. Lupin laughed again, then said in a more serious voice, "I fear Ron and Harry share what Branwen says is the typical Gryffindor flaw: the tendency to see things only as black or white. I had hoped that Harry, at least, might become a little more open-minded, and not repeat his father's mistakes, especially after what he saw in the Pensieve." Lupin smiled tenderly and laid his hand over Snape's. "And now that they know about us, I had hoped the children could see that it is possible for a Gryffindor and Slytherin to get along."

"I think you're just trying to justify your exhibitionism, Lupin," Snape retorted, but with a smile.

"I'd snog you right at the head table in front of the entire school if I could," Lupin said, grinning unrepentantly as he wrapped his arms around Snape.

"Scandalous," Snape murmured as he kissed Lupin. He could still taste the lingering traces of chocolate on Lupin's lips.

"Quite," Lupin agreed, running his hands through Snape's hair. "Does that excite you, Sev?"

"Yes," Snape replied, kissing him again. Then he pulled back a little to scowl at Lupin. "But I'll kill you if you actually try it, Lupin!"

"I'm sure my pelt would make a lovely rug for your office, Severus!" Lupin laughed, pulling Snape back to him for another kiss. But before he let passion cloud his thoughts again, he let himself briefly dream of a future in which the war had been won and Voldemort defeated, a future in which it would be safe for Lupin to declare his love for Severus to the world...

*** 

Dylan and Damien arrived at the DADA classroom the next morning to find the place in an uproar. The Gryffindors were shouting angrily, and some of the Slytherins were laughing while others looked nervous or disapproving; the source of the commotion was Brad Doherty. He was drawing a cartoonish picture of a stereotypical wolfman on the blackboard, complete with furry face and a mouthful of sharp teeth.

"You'll be in big trouble when Professor Lupin gets here!" Colin Creevey was shouting furiously. Ginny Weasley was actually having to hold him back to keep him from attacking Brad, although she looked just as angry herself.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Dylan snapped.

"Just having a little fun," Brad grinned.

"Give me that," Dylan said, trying to wrest the piece of chalk from Brad's hand, but the other boy resisted.

"What's wrong with you?" Brad whined, then said with a sneer, "Do you want me to tell Draco that you're defending the werewolf?"

"I'm not defending Lupin, you dolt!" Dylan snapped. "I'm trying to keep you from getting points docked from Slytherin! How many points do you think Lupin will take off when he sees this? How happy do you think Draco will be if you jeopardize our chances of winning the House Cup? Give me that chalk and erase that picture!"

"I don't take orders from you, Rosier!" Brad snarled. "Ever since you came here, you've been acting so big, lording it over the rest of us! But when Draco hears--"

"Ahem," Lupin said, clearing his throat.

The two boys turned around to see their teacher standing behind them. Brad jumped back, leaving Dylan holding the piece of chalk. Lupin's eyes glanced at the blackboard, and then at the chalk in Dylan's hand. 

"Um...this isn't what it looks like, Professor," Dylan said weakly.

"Detention for both of you," Lupin said sternly. "Mr. Doherty, you may report to Mr. Filch after classes are over for the day. Mr. Rosier, you will report to my office."

"It wasn't Dylan's fault," Damien protested. "It was Brad who drew the picture!" Brad glared at him.

Lupin glanced at the chalk in in Dylan's hand and raised an eyebrow. The Gryffindors shuffled their feet nervously, hesitant to jump to a Slytherin's defense. Even the girls who had flirted with him last year held back; ever since the return of Voldemort had been publicly announced, people had been looking at him differently. His popularity had dipped only slightly, but he had seen many of the students giving him speculative glances, as if wondering if he would turn out to be a Death Eater like his father. But then Ginny stepped forward and said, "He's right, Professor. Brad drew the picture; Dylan was trying to stop him."

"I don't need your help, Weasley!" Dylan snapped. "Mind your own business!" Ginny looked hurt, and Dylan felt a bit guilty, but he couldn't afford to have Brad report to Draco that he'd not only defended Lupin, but accepted help from a Gryffindor. He could justify the first by claiming that he was trying to save Slytherin from losing points, but the two together would look very bad in Draco's eyes.

"Then I will give you detention not for drawing the picture, but for speaking rudely to a classmate," Lupin said, "especially since she was trying to help you. I will still see you in my office this afternoon, Mr. Rosier."

"Yes, sir," Dylan mumbled sullenly.

"All of you, take your seats!" Lupin snapped.

The students all rushed to obey, and Damien whispered to Dylan, sounding puzzled, "It's not like Lupin to be so strict, and to not even listen to your side of the story."

Dylan shrugged. Well, at least the detention should convince Draco that he wasn't on Lupin's side, but he had never gotten a detention during the entire time he'd been at Hogwarts, and now his perfect record was ruined.

Lupin looked at the drawing on the blackboard, and said, sounding more like his usual good-natured self, "Well, I am impressed by your artistic talent, Brad, but your drawing is more fanciful than realistic. Werewolves transform into wolves, not a half-wolf, half-man combination, no matter what the storybooks say." He tapped the blackboard with his wand, and the picture vanished. "You will write me an essay explaining the process of a werewolf's transformation, and list the differences between a lycanthrope's wolf form and a true wolf. Two feet of parchment, plus illustrations." Lupin grinned widely, his lips pulling back from his teeth, and for the first time Dylan noticed that his canines were unusually sharp and pointed, looking almost like small fangs. "Due to me at the end of the week."

Brad nodded, slouching down in his seat resentfully.

"Now, I'd like to see how you're doing on your Patronus Charms," Lupin began, but Colin Creevey raised his hand. "Yes, Colin?"

"I--I was curious, sir," Colin said hesitantly. "I was wondering why you looked so sick when you were teaching us during second year, but now you look much better. There's...there's no cure for lycanthropy, right?" His classmates stared at him in shock; most of them had been wondering the same thing, but none of them had dared to ask Lupin about it. 

"That is correct," Lupin said cheerfully, apparently unoffended. "But the Wolfsbane Potion keeps it in check. The inventor of the potion recently made some improvements to it, so my health has much improved. I no longer suffer from the pain and nausea that usually accompany the transformation. So, hopefully, I will not have to take any sick days this year, and can keep teaching you right up until the full moon."

The Gryffindors looked relieved that it wouldn't be necessary for Snape to substitute for a sick Lupin.

"Now, getting back to our lesson--" Colin raised his hand again. "Yes, Colin?" Lupin asked patiently.

"I was wondering, sir, how werewolves are made..."

"They get bitten, you dolt!" Damien muttered under his breath, and several people snickered.

"Mr. Pierce," Lupin said in a warning tone.

Colin flushed. "I know _that_ ," he said, giving Damien an annoyed look. "But if a person is made a werewolf after being bitten by one, then where did the first werewolf come from?" The class fell silent and looked at each other thoughtfully.

"A good question, Colin," Lupin said with a smile.

"Maybe it's not really any of our business," Ginny started to say, but Lupin interrupted her.

"No, Ginny, it's all right," he said gently. "I don't mind. Secrecy breeds fear, and has contributed to the many misconceptions people have about werewolves. No one really knows how lycanthropy originated, but there are various legends and theories. One theory is that it was a magical experiment gone wrong. But there is a legend in my parents' homeland in France, that werewolves were once true shapeshifters, like the kitsune or tengu of Japan. They could take wolf shape as they pleased, without losing their human intelligence or sanity." The children listened raptly; they had never heard this story before. "But the wolf people grew arrogant, so the legend says, and used their gift for ill rather than good; used their gift to terrorize the populace and set themselves up as lords of the land. So the gods grew angry, and changed the gift into a curse: they would no longer have control over the change, and because they had not valued their humanity, they would lose it, once every month, at the rise of the full moon. They would become no better than beasts--worse than beasts, because animals only kill for food or in self-defense. They would be driven by mindless fury and bloodlust, driven to pass their curse on to others, and they would become reviled as monsters and shunned by society."

There was a stunned silence. "Is that true, Professor?" Ginny asked timidly.

Lupin smiled at her, a little sadly. "I don't know, Ginny," he replied. "But that is the story that has been passed down in my family for generations, and I think there is at least a grain of truth in it. For you see, I did not get my lycanthropy from a bite, but rather, I inherited it."

"What?!" Damien exclaimed, and several other students made similar outbursts.

Lupin smiled at them, looking a little amused. "Didn't you think it was odd that someone with the name 'Lupin' just happened to be bitten by a werewolf? Doesn't that seem like a rather unlikely coincidence? My family was believed to be descended from the original clan of shapeshifters. That story I just told you was not the only thing that was passed down in my family--the curse was as well."

"Your whole family are werewolves?!" Brad blurted out, his eyes wide with shock and fear.

"No," Lupin said. "The curse often skips a generation or two; no one can predict who will inherit it. My family tried to hide it, of course, but it is a difficult thing to conceal. There were dark rumors whispered about them for hundreds of years, sometimes leading to violence. That is why my parents emigrated to England before I was born, hoping to start a new life where no one knew of their past. Unfortunately--" Lupin's lips twisted in an ironic smile. "--I inherited the curse and ruined those plans."

Colin tentatively stuck his hand in the air again.

Lupin sighed a little and said, "Yes, Colin?"

"Then...you're the only person in your family who is a werewolf, sir?" 

"As far as I know, I may be the only person left in my family, period," Lupin said, that ironic smile crossing his lips again. "My parents passed away several years ago, and I have no siblings. Though I suppose it is possible that I may have some very distant cousins still living in France, but I don't really know."

Dylan hesitated a moment, then raised his hand.

"Yes, Dylan?"

"Why haven't we heard of these legends before, sir?" Dylan asked. "The textbooks imply that the disease is passed solely through a werewolf's bite..."

"Probably because some of the prominent wizarding families had a few skeletons in their own closets, and wanted to avoid the same kind of stigma that my family suffered from," Lupin said cynically. "If someone contracted lycanthropy, it could be chalked up to carelessness or bad luck, and need not tarnish their whole family. But if people believed that the disease could be inherited..."

"Then the entire family would be branded as monsters, whether the curse was actually inherited or not," Dylan finished. He noted, with dark amusement, the parallels between Lupin's life and his own: the curse of his father's reputation followed Dylan as relentlessly as Lupin's own curse followed him. In fact, many people (including most of the male members of Gryffindor House) probably thought that being the son of a Death Eater was far worse than being a werewolf. A similar thought had probably occurred to his teacher, because Lupin caught his eye and gave him a sardonic little smile.

"But in any case," Lupin said in a more brisk and professional tone, "inherited lycanthropy is extremely rare; most werewolves have indeed contracted their disease through bites. And thanks to..." Lupin hesitated, seeming to stumble over the words. "...Professor Kamiyama in Japan, the Wolfsbane Potion makes it a manageable disease. A werewolf need no longer be a danger to himself or anyone else. Now, getting back to Patronus Charms..."

Lupin returned to their scheduled lesson, and the entire class, even Brad, was unusually subdued and quiet for the rest of the period.

*** 

At the end of the day, Dylan reluctantly went to Lupin's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Lupin called.

Dylan walked in, and Lupin looked up from his desk where he was grading papers, and said cheerfully, "Have a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Dylan's mouth dropped open. "Um...I don't mean to be rude, sir, but do you always offer tea to the students who are serving detention with you?" _That's certainly a change from Professor Snape!_  
 To his astonishment, Lupin laughed. "Oh, I'm not really giving you detention, Dylan!"

"You're not?"

Lupin grinned at him. "No, I knew that you didn't draw that picture; Brad's handiwork is quite distinctive, I assure you. Though you were rather rude to Ginny." Dylan flushed a little. "But I think I understand why; it would cause trouble for you in Slytherin House if you were seen being too friendly with a Gryffindor, wouldn't it?" Feeling a little stunned, Dylan nodded. "That's why I arranged this little charade. I got the feeling on the first day of class that you wanted to talk to me, but were afraid of what your housemates might think. So...would you like a cup of tea?" Dylan nodded dumbly, and dropped into the chair in front of Lupin's desk. "Cream? Sugar?" 

"Both, please," Dylan said faintly, still feeling rather stunned at how cleverly Lupin had arranged all this, and feeling rather uneasy about how easily Lupin had read him. He prided himself on being able to disguise his emotions and only let people see what he wanted them to see; it bothered him that Lupin had seen right through him. And why was Lupin going through all this trouble to help the son of a Death Eater? Lupin handed him a tea cup, and Dylan took a sip from it as he tried to calm himself and compose his thoughts.

Lupin drank from his own cup, then said pleasantly, "So, what did you want to talk to me about, Dylan?"

"You...you mentioned my father on the first day of class," Dylan said hesitantly. "You said that you went to school with him."

"Yes, that's right," Lupin said calmly. "We were in different Houses, of course, but we were yearmates and did share some classes together."

"But no one ever talks about my father!" Dylan exclaimed. "Well, except for Professor Snape, a little. But most people don't like to talk about him; it makes them uncomfortable because he was...well..."

"Because he was a Death Eater," Lupin finished, still in that calm voice.

"Yes," Dylan said, confused. "I mean, sometimes people taunt me with that fact, call me devil's spawn or a murderer's child--" Lupin looked angry and distressed when he heard that, which confused Dylan even more. "But you just said, 'I went to school with your father,' like he was an old friend..."

"No, Evan wasn't my friend, and I can't claim that I was close to him," Lupin replied. "Because of House rivalries, it was almost impossible for someone from Gryffindor to be friends with a Slytherin." Lupin smiled sadly for a moment, then continued, "But I didn't hate him; in fact, I rather liked him, to tell you the truth, though of course I never told my Gryffindor friends that."

"You liked my dad?" Dylan asked incredulously.

Lupin laughed again, the sadness in his eyes replaced by a mischievous gleam. "Well, Evan was a very charming boy. But perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I admired his audacity. He and his friend Lyall had quite a reputation as pranksters, you know."

"So I've heard," Dylan said with a grin. "But weren't you and your friends the victims of some of those pranks?"

Lupin grinned back at him. "Well, they never targeted me specifically, but yes, Gryffindor was their usual target. In particular, I remember a batch of Valentine's Day chocolates laced with Swelling Solution..."

"But they were never caught--" Dylan said without thinking, then clamped his hand over his mouth, but Lupin just chuckled.

"No, no one was ever punished for that prank, but believe me, everyone knew who was responsible."

Dylan dropped his hand and asked cautiously, "And...you weren't mad?"

"Well, my friends were furious, of course," Lupin replied, "but no, I wasn't really angry. James Potter was one of my best friends, and mostly he was a very good person, but..." Lupin sighed. "He did have the usual bias against Slytherin, and I'm afraid he and some of my other friends pulled a number of pranks against...um...certain members of Slytherin House, some of them rather cruel pranks, I'm afraid." Lupin sighed again, then smiled wryly. "So I can't really claim that James was an innocent victim in the matter."

"Why didn't you hate the Slytherins the way your friends did?" Dylan asked curiously.

"I suppose because as a werewolf, I knew what it was like to have people judge you on appearances," Lupin replied gravely. "Not many Headmasters would have admitted a werewolf to Hogwarts, you know."

"Or a Death Eater's son," Dylan added softly.

"Yes," Lupin agreed. "Professor Dumbledore believes in judging people by their actions, not by their wealth, or their families, or even by a particularly dangerous disease they might happen to suffer from. So it seemed to me that I should do the same. Besides, as a werewolf, I hardly had the right to be pointing fingers at anyone else."

Dylan was silent for a few minutes as he thought things over, and Lupin patiently sipped his tea and waited. Finally, Dylan said, "That explains why you didn't hate my father when you were students. But he did eventually join the Death Eaters, so you had plenty of reason to hate him after that."

"I won't lie to you, Dylan," Lupin said quietly. "I can't condone what your father did. But I hate his actions rather than the man. I mourn his death, and I mourn the loss of what he could have been." He paused, as if trying to choose his words carefully. "Your father was led astray and seduced by Voldemort and his followers--" 

Dylan winced; Lupin and Dumbledore were the only people he had ever heard met who referred to the Dark Lord by name.

"--and he made some terrible mistakes, but...he was not 'born bad,' as people often say Slytherins are."

Dylan blinked in surprise; Snape had said something similar about Evan Rosier making "terrible mistakes".

"He did have his good points as well," Lupin continued. "He cared for his friend Lyall. He loved your mother very much. And Professor Blackmore liked him."

"She did?" Dylan asked, feeling shocked.

Lupin smiled at him. "Yes, apparently she was very fond of him. Have you never heard the story of how he asked her for a dance at the Yule Ball?"

Dylan laughed, "Yes, I heard it! Professor Sn--" He suddenly broke off what he was about to say, belatedly realizing that Professor Snape might not care for Dylan bandying his name about with his childhood enemy.

Lupin just grinned. "I'd already guessed that Professor Snape must have told you stories about Evan, but I won't mention it if you don't want me to. Anyway, I think Professor Blackmore admired Evan's audacity a little, too, although that she never let that stop her from giving him detention. But she cared about him, cared about all her students very much."

"But wasn't she an Auror?" Dylan asked. "Weren't she and my father on opposite sides of the war?" There was a certain danger in speaking so openly with Lupin, but the werewolf was willing to talk about things that even Professor Snape wouldn't discuss, and somehow Dylan felt like he could trust Lupin. It was ridiculous; he had no logical reason to do so, and Dylan never let his guard down completely with anyone but his mother or Snape, but some instinct kept telling him that it was all right to trust Lupin, that the werewolf would never betray him. Maybe it was Lupin's kind and easy-going manner--after all, he had won over most of Dylan's Slytherin housemates, except for Draco's diehard cronies, which was no easy task for someone who was not only a werewolf, but a Gryffindor to boot.

"Yes, they were," Lupin said solemnly, his playful smile vanishing. "But she tried to save him, Dylan, right up until the end. She tried to convince him to surrender..."

"She was there when my father died?" Dylan gasped, his eyes flying wide open.

Lupin cursed under his breath; clearly he hadn't known that Dylan was unaware of that fact. "Yes," he said reluctantly. "I thought you knew."

"No," Dylan replied, feeling a little faint with shock. "I know Mad-Eye Moody killed him and Lyall Wilkes; that's all my mother told me." 

Lupin sighed unhappily. "Perhaps I shouldn't say anything more..."

"Please tell me what happened!" Dylan begged. "I want to know, even..." His voice faltered a little. "Even if it's something bad. I'm his son; don't I have a right to know?"

Lupin stared at him for a long time, then said, "Very well. Professor Blackmore and Alastor Moody were the Aurors who confronted your father and Lyall, along with two young Aurors-in-training, Miles Dempsey and..." Lupin hesitated, then finished, "Sirius Black."

Dylan had thought he could not possibly be shocked any further; he was wrong. "Sirius Black? The murderer?"

"Falsely accused murderer," Lupin corrected him sharply. "His name has been cleared."

"Right, I read about it in the Daily Prophet," Dylan said hastily. "I didn't mean any offense."

Lupin smiled, albeit sadly. "None taken. I suppose it takes more than a statement from the Ministry to undo years of notoriety. Anyway, the four of them were sent to apprehend Evan Rosier and Lyall Wilkes. I'm not sure, but I suspect that Branwen purposely took that assignment so that she would have the chance to save Evan and Lyall; another Auror might have killed them on sight. She pleaded with them to surrender, promised to protect them and speak on their behalf in court if they would give themselves up."

"Why would she do that?" a bewildered Dylan asked.

"Because she cared about them."

"But why?"

"If you want to know that, you will have to ask her," Lupin said, then smiled a little at Dylan's horrified expression. "She isn't quite the ogre she seems, you know," he said lightly. "Not unlike Professor Snape."

Dylan thought that if his eyes opened any wider, they would probably pop right out of his head. "Pr...Professor Snape?" he repeated weakly.

"Yes, Professor Snape," Lupin agreed, that mischievous twinkle back in his eyes. "The entire faculty knows that he's taken you under his wing, Dylan. Don't tell me that you haven't noticed that he has at least a few redeeming qualities..."

"Yes, but I didn't think that _you_ knew that," Dylan replied, feeling a little dazed. 

"Well, I do," Lupin replied, still smiling. "I don't hate Severus, even if he still harbors a grudge against me. Unfortunately, my friends and his did not get along very well."

"More of those pranks you mentioned earlier?"

"Clever lad," Lupin said, looking amused. "I'd give you points, if we were still in class."

"About my father...?" Dylan prodded, trying to steer the conversation back on track, although he was finding this tangential line of discussion about Snape to be quite fascinating.

Lupin's mood turned serious again. "Professor Blackmore begged your father to surrender."

"But he refused to," Dylan said softly.

"Yes," Lupin replied, in an equally quiet voice. "One of his good qualities was his loyalty, but in this case it was misplaced. Voldemort did not deserve that loyalty. He sent his minions out to fight, and in some cases, die, but he did not mourn their deaths, and did nothing to protect them. Vol--" He saw Dylan wince, and changed his words to, "The Dark Lord values only strength, and in his eyes, those who got themselves killed were by definition weak, so he cared nothing for either the people he murdered or the followers who died in his name."

Once, Dylan would have been angered by Lupin's words. But now he knew what the Dark Lord was really like, and he knew that Lupin was telling the truth. He was a little surprised to hear Lupin call Voldemort "the Dark Lord"--he had never heard anyone but the Death Eaters refer to him by that name; the rest of the wizarding world always called him "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named". Curious...

"Please don't hate Professor Blackmore," Lupin said, in a quiet and earnest voice. "She did her very best to save him. Even Moody is not really to blame--"

"He killed my father," Dylan said in a hard voice. "Even if it was in self-defense, I can't--"

"Moody did not kill your father," Lupin said softly, looking Dylan directly in the eyes.

"What?! B-but I thought--"

"When Evan saw that defeat was inevitable, he cast a Death Strike spell. It's a very ancient Dark spell that--"

"I know what it is," Dylan interrupted, not caring that he was giving away the fact that he knew more about the Dark Arts than he should. 

"Evan believed that death was better than dishonor," Lupin said, still holding Dylan's gaze. "The spell killed him, of course, along with Dempsey, and badly wounded Moody and Lyall; Branwen and Sirius managed to shield themselves. Lyall, loyal to the end, tried to attack Moody, and Moody killed him in self-defense."

Stricken, Dylan stared into Lupin's blue eyes; the compassion and concern he saw there were more than he could stand, and he dropped his gaze, staring at the floor while he fought back tears. _Is everything I thought I knew about my father a lie?_ he wondered in despair.

He felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder, and looked up to see that Professor Lupin had come around from behind the desk. "Why would my mother lie to me?" Dylan whispered.

"I'm sure she was telling you the truth as she knew it," Lupin said kindly. "The details were not made public, and most people believe that Moody killed both Evan and Lyall. I'm sorry, Dylan, perhaps I should not have told you all this--"

"No," Dylan said in a shaky voice, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "I asked you to. And I guess I'd rather know the truth, than go on believing a lie."

"One thing that is not a lie is that he truly loved your mother," Lupin said, his hand still resting on Dylan's shoulder. "Never doubt that."

"Yes, Professor," Dylan whispered, touching the ring that he wore on his right hand--his father's ring. The gesture comforted him, just a little. Lupin squeezed his shoulder, and that comforted him a little, too, and then his teacher went back to his desk and fixed Dylan a cup of fresh tea. Dylan drank it, the heat from the liquid driving out some of the chill that had settled in his body when he had heard the true story of Evan Rosier's death. Lupin sat watching him as he drank, with that kind and worried look in his blue eyes.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Dylan finally asked.

"You're my student," Lupin replied, as if stating the obvious, looking a little confused by Dylan's question. "And the son of an old classmate."

"I'm the son of a Death Eater," Dylan said bitterly. "Aren't you afraid that I'll turn out to be a Death Eater, too? That's what everyone else thinks."

"Not everyone," Lupin said firmly. "Not the Headmaster. Not Professor Flitwick. And not me."

"You don't even know me," Dylan pointed out.

Lupin smiled at him, an oddly tender look in his eyes that totally bewildered Dylan. "I have a...feeling about you, you might say. And my instincts are usually correct. I suppose some people might call me a fool, but I have faith in you, Dylan."

Dylan was even more confused than before, but Lupin obviously couldn't, or wouldn't, explain it any more clearly that that. He happened to glance up at the window, and saw that the sky outside was turning dark. Lupin's eyes followed his gaze, and he exclaimed, "Oh my, I didn't realize it was that late! You'd better hurry--we'd both better hurry, or we'll be late for dinner!"

Dylan rose to his feet, saying shyly, "Thank you for the tea...and everything, Professor."

Lupin smiled at him. "You're welcome, Dylan. Feel free to stop by my office anytime."

"By the way," Dylan asked, some of his good humor restored, "what was my detention? In case my housemates should ask."

Lupin thought for a moment, then decided, "I made you write lines. 'I will not behave disrespectfully in class.' And I lectured you about inter-House rivalry and the importance of getting along with your peers until your ears nearly fell off. I know some of the staff and students think I'm too softhearted; that should fit in with their view of me. Oh, and if you want to talk to me again, signal me and I'll give you detention. Just make a nasty comment about werewolves or something." Lupin grinned. "But try not to pick too many fights with the Gryffindors, please."

Dylan found himself grinning back at his teacher. "Yes, sir!"

"Run along, then, Mr. Rosier. We probably shouldn't be seen heading to the Great Hall together."

Dylan ran ahead to dinner, thinking to himself that he liked Lupin very much; it was really a pity that Snape hated him...

*** 

"All right, Lupin, what are you up to?" Snape asked his lover as soon as they were alone in his quarters together after dinner.

"I don't know what you mean, Severus," Lupin said, feigning innocence.

Snape just gave him the same daunting glare he used to intimidate his students, but it had little effect on Lupin. "Why did you give Dylan Rosier detention?"

"Did Dylan tell you about that?" Lupin asked, feeling a bit surprised. He hadn't thought that Dylan would discuss their conversation with Severus; he'd gotten the distinct impression that Dylan thought that Professor Snape would disapprove of him associating with "the werewolf".

"No, but Doherty told Malfoy, and Malfoy told me. So, I repeat, Lupin, what are you up to? Dylan is much too careful to get caught doing anything that would warrant detention."

"Actually, I think he was trying to defend me, in his own way," Lupin replied with a grin. "It was kind of cute, really." He explained how Brad had drawn the unflattering werewolf caricature, how Dylan had tried to make him erase it, and how Dylan had turned on Ginny when she stood up for him.

"So you've already won over Dylan Rosier after only two days of class?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm impressed; he's very guarded, and doesn't readily trust most people."

"Sounds like someone else we know," Lupin said, smiling at Snape.

"Being a Death Eater doesn't exactly inspire warm feelings and faith in humanity," Snape pointed out dryly.   "It must be my charm and good looks," Lupin said, fluttering his eyelashes at Snape, who rolled his eyes and tried not to smile. "Besides, most of the Slytherins, particularly the younger ones, don't really hate me; they only pretend to so that Draco won't give them a hard time. Damien Pierce likes me, and he's Dylan's best friend, so he's probably persuaded Dylan that I'm all right."

"Let me see if I've got this straight: Dylan Rosier, who has always been more guarded and calculating than most adults twice his age, is leaping to defend you from one of his housemates," Snape said. Lupin grinned and nodded. "So I repeat, why did you give him detention?"

"I wanted an excuse to talk to him without Draco accusing him of getting friendly with me," Lupin said. "I think he wanted to talk to me, too."

"And why would he want to do that?" Snape asked uneasily, because his inner voice had no trouble coming up with an answer. _Because he saw Lupin in your thoughts, during the Occlumency lessons, and he wants to know why images of Lupin are floating around inside your head..._  
 But Lupin was replying, "Probably because I happened to mention in class yesterday that I went to school with his father. Which is true, of course."

Snape felt amused, annoyed, and relieved, all at the same time. "You deliberately played on his one weak spot, Lupin. Very devious, for a Gryffindor."

"Well, you once told me I would make a good Slytherin, Severus," Lupin laughed. "But yes, I knew he wouldn't be able to resist coming to me after that. I've heard so much about him over the past two years; I wanted to see him for myself--"

"You see him in class every day," Snape pointed out.

"--and I wanted to get to know him," Lupin finished. "Because...well, because you care about him." Snape flushed and scowled, and Lupin smiled tenderly. "You can't deny it, Severus."

"Don't go getting all sappy on me, Lupin," Snape said muttered, but didn't try to deny it. Lupin slipped an arm around his waist and kissed him on the cheek. "So," Snape said, trying to sound grumpy, in spite of the feeling of contentment that was slowly spreading through his body, "what did you think of Mr. Rosier?"

"A complicated boy," Lupin said, laying his head on Snape's shoulder. "A little bitter, which is not surprising, considering the circumstances. But at heart, a good person. Even if you had not intervened, I'm not sure that he would have followed in his father's footsteps." Lupin kissed Snape again, this time on the mouth. "Like you--and unlike Evan, I'm sorry to say--he thinks too much; he would not have been content to blindly accept Voldemort's propaganda for long. Eventually, he would have started to question, and to doubt. I think his friendship with Hermione proves that."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to get too close to him, Remus," Snape said, serious now.

"Why?" Lupin asked, looking a little hurt.

"He's very clever, and I don't want him to find out about us," Snape said, gently stroking Lupin's cheek in an attempt to soften his words. "It could be dangerous, for him and for us."

"I'll be careful, Severus," Lupin promised. "It's not out of character for me to befriend a fatherless Slytherin boy; I am a softhearted Gryffindor fool, remember? And I've openly made it my mission this year to foster inter-House cooperation." He sighed sadly. "But I do wish I could tell him the truth about how much you mean to me." He paused to think, and frowned a little. "Er...do you think he would be shocked? By us, I mean?"

"I'm sure he would be shocked to find out that the werewolf I claim to hate is my lover," Snape said with wry humor. "And I'm sure the entire school would be shocked to find out that anyone, even a werewolf, could feel love for me. But once he got over the initial shock, I don't think he would care that we're both men, if that's what you mean. Slytherins are rather blase about such things, you know. Though of course we're still expected to make proper marriages and sire little brats to carry on the family name regardless of our sexual preferences."

"Good," Lupin said, ignoring Severus's last sentence, because he had no fear that his lover was going to run off and sire little Snapes on some woman, although the thought of several little Severus Snapes running around was quite amusing. But he was happy that Dylan was not likely to hate him or be disgusted when--in some nebulous future--he found out that his two teachers were lovers. Severus loved Dylan, so Lupin wanted Dylan to like him. And Lupin sincerely liked Dylan; he found himself feeling almost fatherly towards the boy. Oddly enough, it was that very un-childlike, too-adult guardedness Severus had mentioned that made Lupin feel so protective of Dylan, because he knew it was a sign that the boy's childhood had been stolen from him--by Voldemort, by his grandmother's bitterness, by the prejudice of society in general. 

It was silly, Lupin knew, because even if his father was dead, Dylan still had a family that loved him, but he found himself wistfully imagining a future in which the war was over, and he, Severus, and Dylan formed an odd little family of sorts. Perhaps it was because Severus (though he would never admit it out loud) thought of Dylan like a son, and because Lupin had long ago--even before he and Severus became lovers--resolved never to have children; there was no way he would ever risk inflicting his curse on a son or daughter. Dylan was likely the closest both he and Severus would ever come to having a child. There was Harry, of course, but Harry regarded Lupin as more of a mentor and favorite teacher than a parental figure; that role was rightfully filled by Sirius, his godfather. And although Severus had set aside his grudges enough to teach Harry, Lupin doubted that he would ever be able to like the boy, much less love him. Dylan was someone they could both love...

"But someday," Lupin whispered. "Someday, when it's safe, we can tell him?"

Snape did not quite understand the look of sorrow and yearning in Lupin's eyes, but he said, "Someday," and tenderly kissed his lover on the forehead, and Lupin seemed to be comforted by that.

Neither of them knew that "someday" would come sooner than they thought, and that it would not be safe at all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lupin's story about werewolves was somewhat inspired by the short story "East of the Dawn" by Jere Dunham, from Marion Zimmer Bradley's "Sword and Sorceress" anthology (volume 8). The heroine is a werewolf who is unable to shapeshift into wolf form. In order to get rid of such a useless pack member, the clan priestess sends her out on a false quest. The quest is fulfilled in a sense; she does not learn to shapeshift, but she is accepted by a clan of amazon-like warrior women who teach her to fight and hunt. She returns to her family to find that the shapeshifters' godess has punished them for the priestess's lie by taking away their ability to change into human form, and they are now bound forever in animal form. 
> 
> Obviously, Lupin's story is a bit different, but I liked the idea of the gods punishing the shapeshifters for their arrogance. And yes, I know that in Prisoner of Azkaban Lupin says he was bitten by a werewolf as a child, but to me, his very name (both "Remus" and "Lupin") implies some sort of family connection with wolves, and I liked the idea of him being descended from a line of werewolves. And I picked France as his country of origin because he shares the same last name as the thief Arsene Lupin (from a series of French novels) and Arsene's "grandson" Lupin III (from the Japanese manga and anime series).


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape and Dylan answer Voldemort's summons, and finally learn what the Dark Lord wants from Dylan.

Things went fairly well for Dylan as the first few weeks of school progressed. Snape was driving them harder than ever, to prepare them for their O.W.L.s, but Dylan had no trouble keeping up in Potions class; indeed, he relished the challenge, and was happy to help his less-adept classmates with their homework, although he was careful not to let Draco catch him at it. He and his classmates also continued to surreptitiously enjoy Lupin's class; they were still working on their Patronus Charms, as well as studying shield spells and countercurses. And Lupin had caught Brad Doherty off guard, when he returned Brad's "punishment" essay to him the following week.

"Well done, Brad," Lupin said cheerfully. "You really did your research on this." Lupin grinned mischievously. "And your illustrations were first-rate; very realistic." He held up the piece of parchment so the class could see the detailed drawings Brad had done of a werewolf and a real wolf, with little notes scribbled next to each picture pointing out the subtle differences between the two. "Ten points to Slytherin."

Brad sat up a little straighter in his chair, beaming with pride, until he remembered that Lupin was supposed to be the enemy, then flushed and scowled at the werewolf. Lupin just smiled and held out the parchment to him. Brad snatched it out of his hand, and for a moment Dylan thought he was going to crumple it up and throw it away, but instead he very carefully rolled it up and stowed it away in his bookbag.

Professor Blackmore's class was fascinating, although she was as strict and terrifying a teacher as Snape; she had the entire class--even the rowdiest of the Slytherins--too petrified with fear to step out of line. Dylan could not quite put his finger on it; she was a beautiful young woman, and had (so far) never actually harmed any of her students, but there was something about her that projected an aura of power and menace. And there was a very strange quality about her emerald-green eyes; they were not the eyes of a thirty or even forty-something year old woman...they seemed somehow ancient and otherworldly, more befitting of a faerie queen or demon princess than a schoolteacher, and Dylan was reminded of those old rumors about her family's supposed demon blood, and of her mysterious disappearance fifteen years ago.

Whatever the reason, Dylan and his classmates were always very well-behaved in Incantations class. He had not yet worked up the courage to talk to her privately about his father, but occasionally he caught her staring at him in class thoughtfully. And one day, when they had been practicing drawing protective circles in class, Blackmore stopped to examine his handiwork and said, "You have a very careful and precise touch, Mr. Rosier--much like your mother. Good work; five points to Slytherin." She actually gave him a small smile, but before Dylan had time to react, she had already moved on and was berating another student for their sloppy work.

And then, of course there was Quidditch. Draco was in a much better mood of late, because Montague had graduated, and Snape had appointed Draco Captain of the Slytherin team. And, of course, Montague's departure meant that there was another opening on the team...

*** 

"I'm going to try out for the team," Damien announced eagerly as the usual foursome of friends were doing their homework one night. They had gathered in Dylan's and Damien's dorm room rather than the common room, in an attempt to keep a low profile and avoid arousing Draco's ire.

"What about you, Theo?" Dylan asked. "Are you going to try out?"

"No," Theodore replied flatly.

"Why not?" Damien asked, looking surprised. "I figured you'd be a shoe-in, being so tight with Malfoy and all. And I thought you liked Quidditch--"

"I do," Theodore replied, looking almost as sour as Snape. "But I more than have my fill of Malfoy lording it over me all day long in class; I don't much fancy being bossed around on the Quidditch Pitch by him as well." There was an awkward silence, then Theo managed a slightly twisted smile and said, "But good luck to you, Damien. I'll be cheering you on."

"Yes, well, I suppose I should thank you," Damien said, trying to make light of it, "since my chances of making the team will be better now. I don't mind sucking up to Malfoy a bit to make the team; it seems to be a prerequisite of entering Slytherin House, anyway." He fell to the floor and began groveling extravagantly. "Yes, sir, Malfoy, whatever you say, Lord Malfoy..."

He looked so ridiculous that the other boys had to laugh. "Get up, you clown," Theo snorted, prodding Damien slightly with his foot. 

Damien got up and picked up his textbook again, but looked pleased that he'd managed to cheer up his usually-morose friend. "So what about you, Blaise?" he asked. "Going to try out?"

"No, no, no," Blaise said fervently, shaking his head. "I'm not much good on a broomstick; I got bucked off on my first flying lesson." He turned a little red, no doubt remembering his classmates' laughter; Slytherins were not exactly known for their compassion. "Anyway, I agree with Theo about Malfoy." He gave his friend a sympathetic smile. "He's already chewed me out once for doing too well in Potions class; the last thing I want to do is attract more attention to me, good or bad."

*** 

So Damien tried out and made the team, joining Dylan as a Chaser. Malfoy scowled a little when he heard that Potter had been made Captain of the Gryffindor team, but seemed a little consoled by the fact that at least they held equal status. Dylan silently thanked every god he could think of that Montague had graduated last year; there would have been no living with Draco if Potter had been made a Captain while he was still a mere team member.

Meanwhile, the Gryffindors, even the girls, began to treat Dylan more coldly than usual, once word of how he had turned on Ginny Weasley got out, as he discovered one day in the library...

Dylan was studying in a secluded corner of the library late one afternoon. He was taking notes on a Summonings text that was a reference book, and thus, "Not allowed out of the library; no exceptions," Madam Pince had informed him coldly, and he knew better than to argue with her. 

Hermione Granger walked by carrying a large stack of books, started to sit at the table, then saw Dylan and said in an icy voice, "Oh, I didn't know YOU were here."

From the look in her eyes, that coldness was real and not feigned. He looked around carefully to make sure they were really alone, then gave her his most charming smile. "Hermione--"

She just looked down her nose at him in a such a disdainful way that it would have put Narcissa Malfoy to shame. "I heard how you treated Ginny in Professor Lupin's class."

Dylan sighed. He had forgotten that she and the Weasley girl were friends. "Aw, come on, Hermione," he said. "You know I didn't mean it."

She dropped her books onto the table with a loud thump and sat down across from him, still looking rather irritated, but at least she wasn't doing her Ice Queen imitation anymore. "Every time you do something mean, Dylan Rosier, you always say afterwards, 'I didn't mean it'..."

"How would it look to Malfoy if I hid behind a Gryffindor girl's skirts?" Dylan asked, and Hermione glared at him. "Okay, bad analogy," he said hastily, holding up his hands as if trying to ward off an attack, cringing with a look of exaggerated fear on his face. Hermione tried to keep the stern look on her face, but her lips twitched upwards in a smile, and she gave in and laughed.

"Oh, all right, I forgive you, even though I shouldn't!" she said. "You really hurt her feelings, you know, and she always thought you were nice even though Ron and some of the other Gryffindor boys were always putting you down."

"I know, I know," he sighed. "I'm sorry, really I am, but I have to keep up my cover."

"I know," she said in a quieter voice. "Professor Snape told me. I guess I shouldn't be talking to you right now, should I?"

"Not really," he reluctantly agreed.

"Are you really in danger, Dylan?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"I can't talk about it," Dylan said quietly. "For your safety, as well as mine. I wish I could." Hermione nodded and picked up her books, preparing to leave. "Hermione, wait! Professor Snape talked to you during the summer?" She nodded. "When did that happen? What were you doing talking to Snape during summer vacation, anyway?"

She looked uncomfortable. "I...I can't talk about it, either."

Dylan stared at her, wondering what secret she and Snape could possibly be sharing. "Well," he said slowly, "it looks as if we both have secrets to conceal."

"Looks like it," she agreed. "Be careful, Dylan."

He was about to reply, "You too," when he heard footsteps approaching, and said in a loud voice, "I don't care if I hurt your little friend's feelings, Granger! That will teach her not to interfere with her betters!"

Hermione blinked, looking surprised for just a moment, then quickly retorted, "Her 'betters'? I think all the adulation you get from the female students has swelled your head, you arrogant little git! Ginny Weasley is worth ten of you!"

"Ha! I'm worth ten Weasleys--and come to think of it, there are at least ten of them, aren't there?"

Serafina Avery stopped in her tracks, and looked from Dylan to Hermione and back again, her violet eyes expressionless. "This is a library," she said mildly. "You should keep your voices down."

"I'm sorry for the disturbance, Serafina," Hermione said politely, then shot Dylan one last glare--although there was just a hint of laughter in her eyes--before turning on her heel and stalking away.

"And what are you looking at, Avery?" Dylan snarled, feeling rather grumpy at having his brief conversation with Hermione interrupted.

Serafina was staring at him with a look of mingled puzzlement and contempt. "You confuse me, Rosier," she said, still in that mild, almost conversational voice. "Sometimes you act almost human, and other times, like now, I could swear that you were really Draco Malfoy in disguise."

Dylan stared at her in surprise; that was more than she normally said in a week! "So what's it to you?" he asked, more curious than angry.

"It's nothing to me," she replied in an indifferent voice, "if you want to be Draco Malfoy's lapdog."

Dylan felt his face turning red; now he was angry. "Look who's talking!" he snapped. "Your father was Draco's father's lapdog, and look where it's gotten him!"

"I know," Serafina replied, apparently not offended. "But I thought you were smarter than my father."

Now Dylan was utterly confused. He wavered for a moment, torn between caution and curiosity; curiosity won out. "Aren't you looking forward to the glorious day when the Dark Lord triumphs and his followers, including your father, reign supreme over the wizarding world?" he asked, in a sarcastic voice so that he could claim later that he was just joking, in case anyone heard about it and tried to use it against him.

Serafina's usually expressionless eyes were now filled with pure contempt. "You're a fool, Rosier, if you think anyone other than the Dark Lord will 'reign supreme'. The fact that my father's in prison and your father's dead ought to tell you something."

Dylan bit down hard on his lip to keep from screaming at her. Even if Evan Rosier had made a terrible, foolish mistake by joining the Death Eaters, he was still Dylan's father. _Control,_ he reminded himself. _Stay in control._ He snapped the book shut, grabbed his things, and rose from his seat.

"If you're done with that book, I'd like it," Serafina said calmly. "That's why I came looking for you. Madam Pince said you had it, so I came to ask if I could read it when you were done."

Dylan took a deep breath and counted to ten in his mind, then handed her the book, resisting the urge to throw it at her head. After leaving the library, he calmed down a little--after all, she hadn't said anything that was untrue. Well, he wasn't Draco's lapdog, but since he had deliberately cultivated that image, he couldn't really blame her for thinking that. But he was surprised to learn that she didn't seem to approve of her father being a Death Eater. He had assumed that Serafina, like Draco, and like himself before he had learned the truth about the Dark Lord, wanted to follow in her father's footsteps. Isn't that what all the children of the Death Eaters wanted? 

Dylan frowned. Maybe not. He didn't want it, and Serafina obviously didn't, either. Did Theo? His friend had always agreed with Draco and parroted his opinions, but on the other hand, he had made it clear that he didn't much like Draco, and only hung out with him because that was what was expected of him. And he didn't seem to be very concerned about his father, who was in Azkaban along with Draco's and Serafina's fathers, not to mention Crabbe's and Goyle's. So perhaps Theo did not much care for the Death Eaters, either, although he had never said so.

_But I'm his friend,_ Dylan thought. _Wouldn't he tell me the truth?_ But then again, Dylan had not told Theodore the truth, had he? His mother had told him to trust no one, so he had not told even his closest friends that he aspired to follow in his father's footsteps and become a Death Eater, nor had he told them of his growing misgivings, and he had certainly not told them when the Dark Mark had been forced upon him. So it was not really unthinkable that his friends might be keeping a few secrets from him...that was a very disconcerting thought.

Later that night, at their usual study session, Dylan asked Theodore, "What do you know about Serafina Avery? I ran into her at the library and she was acting a little weird."

"Weird how?" Theodore asked. "That girl is just plain weird to begin with; you need to be a little more specific, Rosier."

Dylan paused as he mentally edited the afternoon's events into something safe for him to discuss, and was reminded once again about how much he was hiding from his friends. "Well, she actually spoke to me, for one thing," he said wryly.

"She did?" Damien asked incredulously, then grinned. "I told you she had a crush on you, Dylan! Eh, you can do better than that, though, when you've got girls like Lisa Turpin or the Patil sisters drooling over you. Avery's kind of scrawny and plain-looking."

"She's got nice eyes," Blaise said in an offhand manner without looking up from his book.

"Ah, so that's your type, is it?" Damien teased. "Too bad she's hung up on Dylan!" Blaise just smiled and shook his head.

"She's not hung up on me," Dylan protested.

"The girl's a freak!" Theodore snapped, scowling fiercely.

Blaise raised his eyebrows and said mildly, "Well, you don't have to be mean about it, Theo."

"Well, she _is_ weird," Theodore muttered sullenly. "She never says anything, just stares at you with that freaky look on her face, like you're one of the specimens in Snape's jars..."

"You have nice eyes, too, Theo," Damien cooed, batting his eyelashes playfully. "No need to be jealous!"

"Oh, bugger off, Pierce!" Theodore--whose eyes were an odd, murky shade of gray-green--snarled, his face turning red.

"Jeez, some people just can't take a joke," Damien muttered, sounding a little hurt.

"So what did she say to you, anyway?" Blaise asked Dylan hastily, giving Theodore a puzzled look.

"Well, she caught me arguing with Hermione Granger," Dylan replied casually. "She was chewing me out for hurting Ginny Weasley's feelings--"

Damien snickered. "Aw, I bet if you went and apologized and made nice to Ginny, she'd forgive you like that!" He snapped his fingers. "She is pretty cute, and--" Damien grinned wickedly. "--Ron Weasley would have a fit if you started dating his sister!"

"Are you out of your mind, Pierce?!" Dylan said disbelievingly. "Draco would kill me if I dated a Gryffindor girl, especially Weasley's sister!"

"True," Damien said, heaving a sigh of disappointment. "Too bad, she really is kind of hot. Did you notice that she filled out a little over the summer?" Damien leered and said, "Do you think Malfoy would care if I went out with a Gryffindor?"

"Yes," Dylan and Theo said firmly, and Damien sighed again.

"Do you ever think about anything but girls?" Blaise asked.

"Not really," Damien replied cheerfully.

"So what did Sera say when she walked in on your argument?" Theodore asked curiously.

"'Sera'?" Blaise asked, raising his eyebrows again. "Not 'the freak'?"

Theodore rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, that was kind of mean of me. But we're Slytherins; we're supposed to be mean! Nasty, evil, slimy..." His friends laughed, and Theo smiled a little. "Sera's her nickname, sort of. I can't really say we were friends, but our parents were, so I've known her since I was, like, five years old. 'Serafina' was too big a mouthful, so I used to just call her Sera. So, anyway, what did she say?"

"She said that sometimes I seemed almost human, and at other times, I was just like Draco Malfoy."

The other three boys burst out laughing. "Oh, that's a good one," Damien said, laughing so hard that he had to wipe tears from his eyes. "I'd love to see her say it to Malfoy's face!"

"I take it she's no fan of Malfoy, despite the...er...family connection?" Dylan said delicately, and Damien and Blaise, who were not the children of Death Eaters, looked a little uncomfortable.

Theodore frowned. "Who knows what she thinks? She never talks to anyone; I'm surprised she spoke to you at all."

Dylan hesitated, then asked, "What's her family like?"

Theodore looked uneasy. Draco bragged incessantly about how high his father ranked in the Death Eaters, but Theodore and Dylan, as if by unspoken agreement, said very little about their fathers or the Death Eaters in general. "Mr. Avery likes to act big, like the Malfoys do, but they outrank him, and he knows it. So he takes it out on his family; he knocks around Sera's mum, and he used to hit Sera, too. He's basically an overgrown bully." The expression on Theodore's face turned dark and brooding, and Blaise and Damien looked even more uncomfortable.

_So these are my father's comrades,_ Dylan thought bitterly. _Lucius Malfoy, who lords it over everyone, and kidnapped my mother, his old friend's lover, to make me join the Death Eaters. Mr. Avery, who's apparently a wife-beater. And Mr. Nott is probably no prize, either._ He silently asked his father, _How could you have been taken in by these people? How could you have called them your friends?_ Then he realized there was something odd about the way Theodore had phrased his words. "Used to hit Sera?" he asked.

"Used to," Theodore said, smiling in a rather nasty way. "Until she hexed him."

"Hexed him?!"

"Hexed him," Theodore agreed, still smiling. "Not long before she entered Hogwarts. Nasty one, too--he had to go to St. Mungo's to have it taken off. Lots of warts, blisters, and pustules. Oozing pustules." Damien made a face and pretended to gag. "Very painful, I imagine. Never touched her again, though he still yells at her. But she just ignores him like she ignores everything else. She's a little scary; you don't want to mess with her."

Damien shuddered a little, and Blaise said, "I'm having some trouble with my Potions homework...why is hemlock listed under both healing herbs and poisons?"

Dylan gratefully let him change the subject, and everyone looked relieved. "Well, obviously, hemlock is poisonous, but in small doses it can be used as a sedative--"

"There must be easier ways of putting someone under than giving them a deadly poison," Damien said dryly, and his friends laughed, a little louder than his joke deserved, and they talked about nothing more serious than homework and girls for the rest of the night.

*** 

Things were not exactly going badly for Harry at school, but he wasn't sure he could say they were going well, either. He was kept very busy with all his classes, and while he was proud to be the new Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team (the look of outrage on Malfoy's face when he heard had been quite satisfying), his new duties, combined with his homework, left him very little spare time. And on top of all that, he still had to take Occlumency lessons.

"From Snape?" Harry wailed. "I know I have to take the lessons, but why does it have to be Snape?"

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore reminded him.

"Why do I have to keep taking lessons from Professor Snape, sir?" Harry asked. "You said he was giving me lessons during the summer because you were too busy, but I thought you'd take over when school started!"

"Well, I was going to," Dumbledore replied with a smile, as his eyes twinkled mischievously behind his half-moon glasses. Harry thought darkly that he didn't find the situation one bit humorous. "But it really is better for you to learn from one teacher if possible--consistency is important, Harry. And Professor Snape tells me that you are progressing well in your lessons."

"That's news to me," Harry said skeptically. The most Snape ever said to him was a scornful, "Not bad for such an undisciplined amateur such as yourself, Potter," or "Well, I suppose you weren't as incompetent as usual today, Potter".

Dumbledore's eyes kept twinkling. "Professor Snape is not very demonstrative in his praise, it is true--"

_That's got to be the understatement of the year!_ Harry thought. 

"--but I assure you, he does believe you are making progress."

"I'd make more progress with you, Professor!" Harry said desperately.

"Besides," Dumbledore added, looking a bit more serious, "I think it is important for you and Severus to learn to get along with each other." 

"But--" Harry protested.

"You don't have to like him, Harry," Dumbledore said sternly. "But you do have to learn to work with him, and respect him, like it or not. He is a valued member of the Order of the Phoenix, and we are all working towards the same goal, and I will not allow petty dislikes to jeopardize something so important."

"'Petty dislikes'? He hates me!"

"No," said Dumbledore quietly, "he hates your father."  "Yeah, well, he seems to have the two of us a little mixed up!"

"Harry," Dumbledore said, sounding...not exactly impatient, but a little disappointed. "I know you have seen a different side of Professor Snape this summer. You know he saved Sirius at the risk of his own life. You know about his relationship with Remus. And you know that he volunteered to give you the Occlumency lessons this summer in an attempt to make up for his earlier mistakes. It takes a very brave man to admit that he is wrong, Harry."

"I suppose," Harry muttered, and suddenly he remembered that he had never apologized to Snape--as he had told Professor Blackmore and Lupin he would--for spying in the Pensieve. He felt a little guilty about that, although he tried to tell himself that Snape was unlikely to accept such an apology, anyway. 

Dumbledore smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder. "I know it won't be easy, but you are a brave boy, Harry, and I believe you are up to the challenge. And you may always come and talk to me anytime you wish."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, resigning himself to the inevitable. Well, at least the Headmaster wasn't going to keep him in the dark and avoid him like he had last year. It was a little disconcerting--not to mention frightening--to learn that the adults he trusted, even one as wise and powerful as Dumbledore, could be fallible and make mistakes.

*** 

"Six o'clock, every Monday and Wednesday evening here in my office, Potter," Snape said coldly. "Don't be late."

"And what's my excuse to be this year? Sir?" Harry said through gritted teeth. "I can hardly be taking Remedial Potions if I'm in your advanced class. Sir."

Snape gave him a sour look. "Don't be cheeky, Potter. I assure you, I'm not enjoying this anymore than you are. You are here for extra tutoring, to keep up in class." He sneered a little. "Since the Headmaster forced me to accept you, even though I told him you were not ready."

"Why do you hate me so much?" Harry burst out, unable to hold it in any longer, although he knew that he was probably going to earn himself a detention. 

"Let's see," Snape said sarcastically. "There are so many reasons to choose from: your insolence and arrogance, your constant rule-breaking--"

"You've had it in for me from the beginning!" Harry retorted. Snape was going to kill him, but somehow, he didn't care. "Before I had broken a single rule!"

"I knew from the moment I first set eyes on you that--"

"I'M NOT MY FATHER!" Harry shouted. _Okay, I'm dead!_ he thought, but at the same time it felt satisfying to finally get years of resentment off his chest.

Snape looked more stunned than angry, though. "I assure you," he said in a slightly unsteady voice, "that you are very much like your father."

"Look," Harry said, in a quieter voice, "I'm sorry about how my dad treated you, but--"

"I don't need your pity, Potter!" Snape snapped, looking a little wild-eyed and paler than usual.

"But I'm not like my father," Harry finished. "Not that way. At least, I don't want to be." Snape just stared at him, apparently having gone beyond anger straight to disbelief. "And..." Harry hesitated, then swallowed hard, remembering Dumbledore's words about it taking a brave man to admit he was wrong. "I...I'm really sorry that I looked into the Pensieve, sir."

"Sorry that you saw what your father was really like you mean," Snape spat contemptuously.

_See, I knew apologizing wouldn't do any good,_ a sullen corner of Harry's mind said. But another, more reasonable, part of him thought that he would have a hard time forgiving anyone who had seen him so thoroughly humiliated--especially if that someone just happened to be the son of the person who had humiliated him. "No," Harry said quietly. "I mean, that too. But I'm sorry, because what I did was wrong."

Snape's jaw dropped, and he just stood there with his mouth hanging open, looking absolutely flabbergasted, and Harry had to repress a smile in spite of himself. Snape recovered quickly, though, and scowled and said, "A thoughtless sort of prank like that is exactly the same sort of stunt your father would have pulled."

"It wasn't a prank, sir," Harry argued, then Snape glared at him, and he thought perhaps he should have left well enough alone.

"Then what was it, Potter?" Snape asked coldly.

Harry flushed and mumbled, "I thought...I thought, at the time, that maybe you were still working for Vol--for You-Know-Who, and I thought maybe you were hiding something about the Department of Mysteries in there..."

For a moment, Snape looked shocked, angry, and...something else. Hurt? Disappointed? Resigned? Then the emotion drained out of his face, to be replaced by an expressionless mask. "Ah, I see," Snape said sarcastically. "It was not a schoolboy prank, but merely delusions of grandeur."

"I said I was sorry!"

"Well, guess what, Potter?" Snape retorted. "Saying 'I'm sorry' doesn't magically make everything all right, nor does it obligate me to forgive you. Forgiveness is something that must be earned."

Harry flushed, anger beginning to replace guilt. Yes, what he did was wrong, but did Snape have to be so nasty about it, especially when he was trying to apologize? 

"Control, Potter," Snape said coldly. "We've wasted enough time already. Prepare yourself." He took out his wand, and Harry braced himself, trying to get his emotions under control. "One...two...three...Legilimens!"

Harry felt Snape attack his mental "wall," and memories began to escape: young James Potter playing with a Golden Snitch...Ron being attacked by a brain-like creature in the Department of Mysteries...Lupin kissing a struggling Snape in the Headmaster's office while a just-healed Sirius looked on in outrage... 

Snape's attack faltered, and Harry pushed back with his mind, and was a little sorry he did so, because suddenly he was in Snape's head again: Dumbledore patting a young James Potter on the shoulder affectionately...a teenaged Lupin laughing as James described a Quidditch play he'd made, accompanied by expansive gestures...James hovering protectively over a tired and ill-looking Lupin in class...and watching from the shadows, in every scene, a young Snape, with hungry and jealous eyes...

"ENOUGH!" shouted Snape, breaking off the spell. Harry stared at him nervously, expecting to be yelled at, to be given detention, maybe to have a few jars thrown his way, but strangely enough, Snape looked more weary than angry. "Enough," Snape repeated, in a softer voice. "Enough for tonight."

"Sir?" Harry asked, beginning to feel concerned. Was Snape feeling sick or something? It was extremely rare for Snape not to be able to summon enough energy to get angry at him. Unheard of, in fact.

"Get out of here, Potter!" Snape snapped, sounding more like his old self, and Harry felt oddly relieved. "And you had better show more control at your next lesson!"

*** 

Snape watched the boy flee the room, thinking to himself, _Control. I'm the one who lost control tonight. I need to get a better grip on my emotions; I'll be dead if I ever try to face the Dark Lord like this._ But he had been profoundly shaken by Potter's apology, by his remorse--awkwardly expressed, but apparently sincere, and by the hint of sympathy in his eyes. That last, Snape could not abide; he would be damned if he would accept pity from James Potter's son!

There was also Potter's impassioned protest that he was not his father. Snape did not want to be reminded of that. Nor did he want Potter's apology. The truth was, despite all his complaints about the boy's behavior, Snape did not want Potter to stop being insolent and arrogant, did not want him to suddenly become as studious and obedient as Dylan Rosier, because then he would have no rational excuse to keep hating Potter. And he needed very badly to be able to hate him...

_It's just not fair,_ a childish voice inside him whined. _It's not fair that Potter--_ And now it was James Potter that he was thinking of; his thoughts shifted so easily from one to the other. _\--should have had so much, and I so little: looks, brains, friends, a family that loved him. And of course, Lupin..._

_Aren't you always telling your students that life isn't fair?_ the sarcastic part of him retorted, and Snape sighed wearily. A former Death Eater, of all people, should know better than to expect the world to treat him fairly. _And what about forgiveness?_ that annoying voice continued. _You told Potter that forgiveness must be earned, but how many times has Lupin forgiven YOU...?_ He had done the unforgivable to Lupin so many times, but Lupin always forgave him, no matter what he did...

And why did Potter's confession that he had been spying in the Pensieve because he had thought Snape was still a Death Eater bother him so much? It wasn't as if he cared what the idiot boy thought of him. And it wasn't as if he hadn't deliberately cultivated the image of a Death Eater; at least he knew that he was successful at it. But... _Forgiveness must be earned,_ his inner voice said, mockingly repeating the words he'd said to Potter. It was one more reminder that no matter what he did to make up for his mistakes, the world would always see him as a Death Eater, that most people would never believe he had really repented.

But there was one person who had forgiven him and did believe in him. He returned to his quarters, threw a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace, and called out, "Remus? I need to see you."

*** 

A moment later, Lupin stepped out of the fireplace, smiling as he dusted ashes off his robe. "Hello, Severus, I thought you'd still be giving Harry his les--mmph!" His eyes flew wide open as Severus grabbed him without warning, pulled him close, and kissed him hard on the mouth. His lover's fingers dug into his flesh with almost painful force, but Lupin didn't protest, and returned the embrace and the kiss. "What's wrong, Severus?" Lupin asked softly, when they finally came up for air.

"I need you, Remy," was the only reply Severus gave him, as he hungrily kissed Lupin again and began tugging urgently at the fastenings on his robe.

Now Lupin was more worried than ever, but all he said was, "I love you, Sev." Then he growled in a low voice, letting the wolf take over, and deliberately tilted his head back, exposing his throat in submission. Severus let out a frantic little moan, then Lupin felt teeth bite down hard on his throat, and that sweet haze of pain mingled with pleasure clouded rational thought. He moaned out loud himself and began tearing at Severus's robes, and put up absolutely no resistance as Severus practically dragged him into the bedroom and threw him down on the bed. Robes and clothing fell to the floor, and flesh slid against flesh with nothing between their bodies but a thin film of sweat, and Lupin could think of nothing but pleasure and need and desire...

Much later, they lay in each other's arms, Lupin feeling so drowsy with satiation and contentment that he had forgotten he was worried about Severus until his lover mumbled sleepily, in an almost childlike voice, "You love me, don't you, Remy? Better than anyone else?"

Lupin frowned a little and raised his head from where it had been pillowed against Severus's chest. The Potions Master's eyes were closed, dark lashes resting against white skin, and he seemed to be more asleep than awake, and not quite aware of what he was saying. "Yes, Severus, I love you," he said tenderly, and kissed him gently on the forehead.

"Better than Potter?" the half-asleep Severus whispered, and Lupin, overwhelmed by love and guilt, felt like his heart would break. He wished he could go back in time and grab his dearly-loved but narrow-minded friend and shake him vigorously as he shouted, "Look at what you've done to Severus!" He wished he could go back in time and smother a needy, insecure young Snape with so much affection that Severus would never again doubt that at least one person truly loved him. But that was impossible, so he did what he could, which was to put his arms around Severus, pull him close, and whisper, "Yes, Severus, I love you best. Better than anyone. You will always be first in my heart." 

Then Severus finally smiled contentedly and slipped fully into slumber, but Lupin lay awake for quite awhile more, cradling his lover in arms, gently stroking Severus's thick, black hair, while tears spilled out of his blue eyes and left hot, salty trails along his cheeks.

*** 

Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room, knitting scarves and hats and mittens for the Hogwarts house-elves. Despite her friends' mockery, she was still determined to free the house-elves, and she had been encouraged by Dumbledore's private admission that he felt she had been right to treat Kreacher kindly. It was horrible what had happened, but of course it wasn't Kreacher's fault that he was...unstable...after the way he had been treated by the Black family. Mrs. Black, judging by her portrait, had been a thoroughly nasty woman, and even Sirius, although he was mostly a nice person and loved Harry very much, was sometimes reckless and thoughtless. He had not treated Kreacher very nicely, though she understood now that the Headmaster had explained it to her, that it had been because Kreacher reminded him of his unhappy childhood. Still, that didn't make it right, and Kreacher was just as much a victim of the elder Blacks as Sirius had been--more, because Sirius had been able to run away from his home, and Kreacher had not.

And Hermione had been a little shocked by the cruelty of the Shrieking Shack "prank". She had thought it a little odd at the time, when Lupin had first told the story to them back during their third year, that someone would pull a such a dangerous prank just for fun, but had taken Lupin at his word, and assumed that it was more youthful idiocy than true malice on Sirius's part. But he had deliberately tried to break up Snape and Lupin, deliberately tried to separate his best friend from the person he loved in a particularly cruel way, by trying to get Snape to see Lupin as a monster. She wasn't sure that Sirius deserved to be forgiven--although Lupin clearly had forgiven him--not so much because he had behaved cruelly (although he had), but because she wasn't sure that he was really sorry for what he had done. 

"Hermione?"

Hermione looked up startled, to see Ginny standing in front of her.

"It's getting late," said Ginny. "Aren't you going to bed?" She smiled. "You wouldn't want to fall asleep in class tomorrow, would you?"

"I would never fall asleep in class," Hermione declared, but yawned and said, "I guess you're right, though. I should call it quits for tonight." She had lost track of the time; she and Ginny were the only ones left in the common room. Apparently everyone else had gone to bed. But since they were alone, it would be safe to tell Ginny she had spoken to Dylan. "I ran into Dylan at the library."

"Oh?"

Hermione hesitated. She couldn't tell Ginny what Professor Snape had told her about Dylan, but... "He's sorry about what happened. I think...Draco Malfoy has such control over Slytherin House, and he's afraid of what Draco will do if he thinks Dylan is being too friendly with a Gryffindor."

"Is that why Dylan stopped being friends with you?" Ginny asked sympathetically, and Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "Look, my feelings were hurt, but I'm over it now. It's not that big a deal." She smiled knowingly and said, "I think you were bothered by it more than me." Hermione blushed. "But I'm glad he didn't really mean it. I always thought Dylan was pretty nice, so I was surprised when he acted that way in class." She giggled. "And I was even more surprised when Professor Lupin gave him detention! Lupin never gave anyone detention back in second year, not even when Draco made nasty remarks about his shabby robes." She shook her head. "I guess I can understand that Dylan's afraid of being expelled from Hogwarts, but aren't any of the Slytherins brave enough to stand up to Draco? Besides, Lucius Malfoy is in prison now..."

"I think they're afraid he's not going to stay there," Hermione said. "A lot of people think that Azkaban's not secure anymore now that the Dementors are gone." She sighed. "I don't know how the Houses are supposed to unite when the Slytherins are too afraid of the Malfoys to associate with Gryffindor, and when the Gryffindors hate the Slytherins just because they're Slytherins! I mean, I know Draco and some of the others aren't very nice, but not all of them are like that!"

Ginny nodded. "Some of the ones in my class seem okay, like Dylan and his friend Damien. I think they're even happy that Professor Lupin came back, but they don't want to say so because they're afraid of Draco."

"Even Ron and Harry, who should know better, are always fighting with the Slytherins!" Hermione said crossly. "Professor Lupin deducted points because they were taunting Draco about his father during class. And Ron is always saying nasty things about Dylan when Dylan has never done anything to him--"

"Oh, he's just jealous!" Ginny giggled.

Hermione looked a little puzzled. "Well, he's always been in his brothers' and Harry's shadows, and I suppose it's even harder for him to see a Slytherin who's so popular..." 

Ginny looked like she was about to say something, so Hermione fell silent, but all Ginny said was, "Uh, right. Come on, let's go to bed." 

Hermione shrugged, picked up her knitting, and they headed for the girls' dorm.

*** 

Snape found that Lupin was unusually affectionate and solicitous towards him, after that night he had summoned Lupin to his room after Potter's Occlumency lesson. Not that he minded, but he was a little puzzled by it. Well, Lupin was very good at picking up on his moods, and no doubt he had startled Lupin by pouncing on him as soon as he'd stepped out of the fireplace.

As Snape sat at his desk in his quarters grading papers, Lupin brought him a plate of cookies and a cup of tea, heavily laden with cream and sugar, just the way he liked it. He kissed Snape on the cheek and nuzzled his neck, murmuring, "I love you, Sev."

"I love you, too, Remus," Snape said. "But didn't you just tell me that fifteen minutes ago?"

"Just making up for lost time," Lupin said with a grin as he kissed Snape again. "But I won't do it if it bothers you."

"I didn't say it bothered me," Snape hastily demurred. "I never get tired of hearing you say that."

"Good, because I never get tired of saying it," Lupin said, slipping his arms around Snape from behind. "I love you, Severus."

"I love you, Remus," Snape repeated, still feeling bewildered. "You know, I was a little upset the other night, because Potter broke into my thoughts during his Occlumency lesson, but I'm fine now."  "I know," Lupin said, still holding him.

"As long as that's clear," Snape said, not sure that it was. "Um...it's a little hard for me to grade papers while you're doing that."

"Sorry," Lupin said, letting go of him. Snape picked up his quill again, then suddenly found that he had a werewolf sitting on his lap.

Snape laughed. "Did the full moon come early this month or something?" 

"Or something," Lupin said, wrapping his arms around Snape's neck and kissing him.

Snape still had no idea what had gotten into Lupin, but he decided to just enjoy it. "I suppose the papers can wait," he said, then suddenly stood, scooping Lupin up in his arms as he did so. "Oof! You're a bit heavier than you look, Lupin!"

Lupin laughed. "Well, I'm not the one who eats nearly a pound of chocolate a day!"

"You exaggerate, Lupin," Snape said, trying to decide whether he could actually manage to carry Lupin to the bedroom without pulling a muscle.

"I appreciate the romantic gesture, Severus," Lupin said mischievously, "but we'll get to the bed faster if you put me down and let me walk." 

That decided the issue for Snape. He quickly set Lupin down, and they ran hand in hand to the bedroom, laughing like a couple of carefree teenage boys.

*** 

Not all of Snape's days were so carefree, of course. He spent a great deal of time worrying about his students. There was Dylan, of course--waiting for the Dark Lord to summon them and reveal his plans for Dylan was nearly unbearable to Snape; he almost wished the Dark Lord would summon them now and get it over with. Almost. And there was also Draco, who was more moody than usual, with his father in prison. He wavered between temper tantrums and rare--but increasing--moments of vulnerability. That vulnerability was useful; they had a rare opportunity that might soon vanish when the Dark Lord got around to freeing Lucius and the other imprisoned Death Eaters.

Lupin continued to treat a confused Draco kindly in his class, while Snape also tried to befriend the boy--which didn't exactly come easily to him. He appointed Draco Captain of the Quidditch team, which eased some of the temper tantrums, and tried to pay more attention to him during class, making a point of complimenting his work. The other students, both Gryffindor and Slytherin, seemed to assume it was merely another sign of his being Lucius Malfoy's "lapdog," but Draco seemed pleased. He also loaned Draco an advanced potions text, similar to the one Lupin had forced him to buy Granger last Christmas, and suggested that he would find it interesting reading. The boy had beamed, looking happy to be singled out for special attention by his teacher; Snape only hoped that he wouldn't use the book to brew poisons to try out on the Gryffindors.

There was another reason for him to pay more attention to Draco. He had seen the way Draco had glared at Blaise Zabini on the first day of class when Snape had praised his potion, even though he had pretended not to notice. Snape had never considered the Zabini boy a problem before; he was quiet and well-behaved, and since his family was unimportant, unlikely to be recruited into the Death Eaters. But the boy was shaping up to be a promising Potions student, and while he certainly didn't want to discourage that talent, he would have to be careful that Draco's resentment didn't get out of hand. Normally, he wouldn't worry so much about it, but Draco was on edge, and there was the slight possibility that Malfoy's revenge might move past simple harassment and into violence, which would be disastrous for both boys, not to mention Snape, who didn't want to have to tell Lucius Malfoy (when he finally got out of prison) that Draco had been expelled from school. 

And Zabini seemed to have become part of Dylan's inner circle of friends, along with Damien Pierce and Theodore Nott. It was an odd combination: two sons of Death Eaters and two boys from lower-ranked pureblood families. Pierce was a simple, good-natured lad, who paid only lip-service to the Slytherin ideals of blood purity, and seemed to be more interested in chasing girls and having a good time than in taunting Mudbloods or, unfortunately, studying. However, under Dylan's influence, he seemed to be buckling down a little. Actually, Pierce reminded Snape a bit of Lyall Wilkes, although he was unlikely to become a Death Eater the way Wilkes had; the younger Rosier had no desire to drag his best friend into the Dark Lord's service, and Pierce's family was not wealthy or important enough for Malfoy to recruit him.

Nott was more problematic. He had assumed that Nott was one of Draco's diehard cronies, like Crabbe and Goyle. But over the past year or so, he had been spending more time with Dylan's crowd, and he had actually seen the perpetually sullen, gloomy-looking boy smile and laugh a few times with his new friends. The elder Nott was an unpleasant, sadistic man who had taken a great deal of pleasure in torturing Muggles and Muggle-borns back in the old days. Snape had assumed that the son would turn out much like the father, but now he thought he might be mistaken. He resolved to keep a closer eye on Theodore; perhaps this one, too, he might be able to save from the Death Eaters.

Snape wasn't so sure about Crabbe and Goyle. The two boys were as stupid as their fathers, and were shaping up to be bullies like them as well. But Lupin claimed that they were still redeemable. "I know that academics is never going to be their strong point," Lupin had said with his typical tactful understatement, "but I don't think they're so bad, at least when Draco isn't egging them on. They seem eager and grateful to receive a little praise and attention. I don't know if they really want to be Draco's henchmen, or if they just do it because it's expected of them, and they can't conceive of doing anything else. Draco's always telling them how stupid they are; that can't be very pleasant." Snape had to admit that Lupin had a point; Crabbe and Goyle were even more sheep-like than Wilkes had been, and blindly followed Draco's lead in all things. Well, in a way, that made things simpler. If Snape could convince Draco to turn away from the path of a Death Eater--and that was a very big if--Crabbe and Goyle would probably follow his lead. _Three for the price of one,_ Snape's inner voice said with sardonic amusement.

Which brought him to the last of the Death Eater offspring in his House: Serafina Avery. "Serafina" meant "heavenly angel," which was a rather ironic name for a Death Eater's child in general, and this girl in particular; there was nothing angelic about her. She always had an oddly blank expression on her face--not a mask to hide her emotions, like the one Dylan wore; it was more as if she had no emotions to hide at all. She always completed her assignments efficiently, and she spent a great deal of time in the library reading, but she took absolutely no interest in any of the people around her. She had no friends, which was not surprising. 

What was surprising was that no one in Slytherin harassed such a peculiar, antisocial girl. Well, perhaps they had heard the stories of how she had hexed her own father as a little girl--not that the elder Avery hadn't deserved it. The man was a sadist and a bully, much like his friend Nott. Everyone knew--though no one discussed it--that Avery beat his wife, but Snape was pleased that he no longer abused his daughter. Uneasily, Snape wondered if Nott abused Theodore; he had never seen any marks on the boy, but Nott was more subtle than Avery...and Snape's father had never left any physical marks on his son, either... No wonder Serafina had turned out so strange, and Theodore so sullen, with parents like those. They were not very pleasant children, but few of the Slytherins were, particularly those whose parents had been Death Eaters.

_It's difficult to turn out pleasant, well-adjusted children when death and violence and hatred are a part of their everyday lives,_ Snape thought sourly. Maybe...just maybe, if Serafina and Theodore really did hate their fathers, he could more easily steer them away from the Death Eaters. Although there was always the possibility that their hatred could have the opposite effect; Snape suddenly remembered Lorcan Foley, one of the three Death Eaters who had been slain during the attempt on Branwen's life. Foley had joined the Death Eaters to gain revenge on his abusive father; the Dark Lord had readily granted his wish. Snape still remembered seeing Foley torture his father to death during one of the Death Eater ceremonies, and shuddered a little at the memory. Not that Snape felt much pity for Foley's father, but his death had been extremely drawn-out and gruesome. And Foley, who had always been mentally unbalanced to begin with, descended deeper and deeper into madness during his tenure with the Death Eaters. Snape knew that even though Foley had tried to kill her, Branwen still regretted his death, and regretted that she hadn't been able to save him, because he had been one of her students.

For the first time, Snape truly understood the despair Branwen must have felt as she watched her students fall, one by one, into Voldemort's clutches. He suddenly realized that he did not want to save just Dylan; he wanted to save all his students, from that arrogant twit Draco to strange little Serafina, and even those two idiots Crabbe and Goyle, and he wasn't sure that he would be able to save any of them.

It was a little strange that Branwen, a former Ravenclaw, had been the one to fight so hard for the souls of the Slytherin students all those years ago. Professor De Lacy, the Head of Slytherin, had been too afraid of the Dark Lord to speak out against him. He had not tried to keep his students from turning to the Death Eaters, and had turned a blind eye to Lucius Malfoy's recruitment tactics. Still, Snape could not bring himself to hate the man. The old Potions Master, while not exactly a warm and encouraging mentor like Dumbledore, had still recognized young Snape's talents and taught him a great deal, saying, "One day, Mr. Snape, you will be even better than me. I am a good Potions Master, but you have the potential to be a great one." Rather than sounding resentful, he had sounded pleased, in his slightly remote and detached way. 

De Lacy had quietly sat out the war, neither helping nor hindering Dumbledore's efforts, hoping only to survive long enough to enjoy retirement. And for a short time, it seemed like that wish would come true: Voldemort was defeated, and the Death Eaters left in disarray. The Potions Master submitted his resignation to Dumbledore, planning to retire to his family's country estate and peacefully conduct Potions research and publish papers in academic journals. Then one morning, his body was found lying in Diagon Alley, with the word "TRAITOR" written in his own blood on the wall above him. Later, Snape would learn that the Lestranges had killed him. After Voldemort's fall, they remained loyal and traveled the country searching for their master and killing those they deemed enemies or traitors. De Lacy, they declared, was a Slytherin who had not stood up for Salazar Slytherin's ideals, who had not given his support to his rightful Lord, but instead had cowardly sat out the war as Dumbledore's pet. If more of these cowards and fence-sitters had done their duty, they said, perhaps the Dark Lord would not have been defeated. 

Snape wondered with dark amusement if his parents, who had also been "fence-sitters" according to Lucius, had felt a pang of fear when they heard that. Fortunately for them, the Lestranges had been captured soon after that. And whatever mistakes De Lacy had made by not protecting his students better, he had paid for in blood. Although he had not cared for Professor De Lacy the way he had cared for Branwen, Snape had mourned the old man's death.

It was quite possible that Snape would die as De Lacy had, especially since he actually was a traitor. But he promised himself that he would not die in vain, and that he would do his best to save his students; he would not simply stand by and let Voldemort take them, as De Lacy had. They might be a thoroughly unpleasant and unlovable lot, but still, they were HIS children, and he would save them--from Voldemort, from their own parents, from themselves, if necessary.

_Listen to me,_ Snape thought to himself with a touch of amusement despite his somber mood. _"My" children--I'm starting to sound as sentimental as Branwen and Lupin!_

*** 

Draco was still worried about his father, of course, but life was not all bad for him at Hogwarts. He was the new Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, a source of great pride to him, and Professor Snape had lately been singling him out for more attention than usual. He said that Draco was showing a great deal of promise in Potions, and gave him a textbook, saying, "You might find this interesting; it's a bit advanced, but I think you're up to the challenge." Draco was pleased; it seemed that Snape really did think he was a good student after all, and wasn't just catering to Draco's father, who was still in prison anyway, and not present to see how Snape was treating his son.

It seemed that Dylan Rosier had learned his place, because he had been keeping a low profile of late, although Draco knew that Zabini and Nott still hung out with him. Draco felt a little--okay, more than a little--uncomfortable that Dylan might have seen him crying, but the other boy hadn't used the information against him, and apparently had not told anyone about it, not even his closest friends. Maybe Rosier's words about understanding how Draco felt had been sincere, and not just the usual sucking-up. They had a couple of private talks about their fathers' schoolboy days, and Dylan had been delighted to hear the stories about Evan Rosier and Lyall Wilkes. To his surprise, Draco had enjoyed himself as well; it was kind of nice, almost like having a real friend, and not just someone who did what he said because his father was a big shot. (Although that had always been satisfying, but somehow it seemed less so of late.)

But Lupin continued to puzzle Draco. The werewolf treated Draco as kindly as he did Potter and Weasley, which utterly confused all three boys. Of course, the softhearted werewolf was nice to everyone, but he seemed to be going out of his way to be kind and understanding to Draco. Well, he didn't need a werewolf's pity! For the most part, Lupin ignored Draco's usual rudeness, but he was stricter than he had been three years ago. He mostly gave warnings, but if the insults between Draco and the Gryffindors started going too far, he took off points. He had even threatened detention, but so far had not followed through on it. And he was blatantly cultivating Crabbe and Goyle, lavishing praise and encouragement on their feeble attempts at spell-casting. The two idiots lapped it up like puppy dogs; it was quite sickening, really. Oh, they pretended to hate Lupin like they always had, after Draco's last warning, but Draco could see the way their eyes lit up whenever Lupin threw a kind word their way, as one might toss a bone to a stray dog. Draco couldn't understand why the werewolf would want to bother with trying to win over Crabbe and Goyle; could he really be that softhearted?

Professor Blackmore was a mystery to Draco. He knew about the rumors of her demon blood, which were ridiculous, of course. She did have a very intimidating air about her, but Draco had listened to and compared all the stories he had heard about her days teaching his parents and his classmates' parents at Hogwarts, and concluded that while everyone was terrified of her, she had never done anything worse to her students than make them serve particularly odious forms of detention, such as bedpan-scrubbing. Which was certainly unpleasant, but hardly life-threatening. 

Yet Professor Snape was still clearly cowed by his old teacher; she was the only one who could make him leave off baiting and insulting Lupin at the dinner table. And of course, there was the little matter of the three Death Eaters who had been killed right before her mysterious disappearance. She might not be a demon, but Draco had no doubt that she was well-versed in the Dark Arts. However, he was fairly confident that Dumbledore would not let her do any real harm to a student. Then again, turning a student into a ferret was against the rules, too, but that hadn't stopped the fake-Moody from inflicting that punishment on Draco...perhaps it would be wise to tread carefully around Professor Blackmore after all...

*** 

But Draco was not as careful as he should have been; it was all that stupid raven's fault. It kept a close eye on the students, cawing loudly to alert his mistress when they got up to mischief behind her backs. It even occasionally patrolled the dungeon halls; it caught a couple of idiotic young Hufflepuffs trying to sneak into Snape's office on a dare, to steal the ingredients for a "love potion". The raven had made enough to noise to wake the dead (and indeed, several of the school ghosts had turned up to see what all the fuss was), and a furious Snape had taken fifty points off Hufflepuff, sentenced them to a week's detention of gutting and dissecting slimy creatures for his Potions stores, and, after taking a look at the recipe for their "love potion," told them to go the library and do some research, then write him an essay on why their potion was totally ineffective. Actually, they'd gotten off easy; if they had been Gryffindors, Snape probably would have had them expelled.

Blackmore had not allowed them to summon anything yet. A Summoning spell, she said, was composed of several different steps. First, they must study the type of creature they wished to summon; some were eager to serve, while others had to be carefully bribed or compelled, and some could cause serious harm if the summoner lost control of them. Next, they had to master drawing the protective runes and circles. Certain Summoning spells called for special incense, herbs, or potions, and they had to learn how to prepare these mixtures--it seemed that Snape's teachings would come in useful here. And last but not least, an incantation had to be recited to trigger the spell. Only when they had mastered all these individual steps, would they be allowed to actually cast the spell.

One day they had split into four groups to practice drawing protective circles on the classroom floor. To Draco's irritation, Potter's group was doing much better than his, mainly because that Mudblood girl Granger was doing most of the work, while Draco's group consisted of Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle. Nott was actually quite good at drawing runes, but Crabbe and Goyle were hopeless.

"You're doing it all wrong, you stupid louts!" Draco berated them. "A five-year old can write more neatly than you two!"

"Sorry, Draco," they mumbled.

"Oh, move over," Nott grumbled, erasing their mis-drawn runes with a flick of his wand. "I'll do it."

As Crabbe and Goyle shuffled out of the way, Draco heard a couple of snickers behind him. He didn't have to turn around to know that they came from Potter and Weasley. Draco saw that Blackmore was busy assisting Parvati Patil's group on the other side of the room, so he took a couple of steps backwards, as if to get a better look at his own team's circle, and "accidentally" trod upon Potter's circle, dragging his foot to smear the chalk lines and runes.

"Hey, watch what you're doing, you clumsy git!" Weasley snapped.

"You did that on purpose," Potter accused, glaring at him.

"Accidents happen, Potter," Draco said in a falsely sweet voice. 

"Let it go, Harry," Granger said. "It's no big deal; I can fix it."

That irritated Draco, who hated being ignored, so he leaned down and whispered menacingly, "So many accidents can happen, to Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers..."

Potter's and Weasley's faces turned red with fury, and they reached for their wands; Draco automatically reached for his in response. Just then, Bane flew over them and started cawing at the top of his lungs.

Blackmore was at their side as quickly as if she had Apparated across the room. Bane fluttered down and landed on her shoulder. She turned her cold green eyes on each of the three boys in turn, and Draco found himself cringing and breaking out into a cold sweat, despite his earlier certainty that she would never really harm a student.

"M-Malfoy started it," Weasley stammered. "He deliberately messed up our circle!"

"I did not!" Draco protested. "It was an accident!"

"It was not!"

"Was too!"

"Was not!"

Blackmore let them go at it for a minute or two, as she leaned against a nearby desk, drumming her fingers impatiently on the desktop. Finally she dragged her nails across the desk, which made a loud screeching noise that made the boys jump with a start, and caused the hair on the back of Draco's neck to stand on end.

"I don't care who started it!" Blackmore snapped. "I will not tolerate any of this inter-House sniping in my class, is that clear?!"

"Yes, Professor," the three boys mumbled. 

"And if I ever catch you drawing a wand in my class again without my permission, you will be very, very sorry." An evil smile spread slowly across her face, and suddenly those rumors about her demon blood no longer seemed so silly...

"Y-yes, Professor," Draco stuttered, and the two Gryffindors echoed his words in equally shaky voices. 

"Twenty points off your Houses for each of you," Blackmore said. "That is, forty from Gryffindor, and twenty from Slytherin." Weasley and Potter looked glum, and Draco's only consolation was that at least Gryffindor had lost twice as many points as Slytherin had. "And for your detention, let's see..." Blackmore paused to consider as the boys waited anxiously. Then she smiled, looking almost cheerful, which Draco thought boded ill for them. "I think...we shall try a little exercise in cooperation. You three can clean the Owlery together; report to Hagrid after school."

"Yes, Professor."

"With no use of magic," she continued. "I expect it to be sparkling clean when you're finished, and if you three start fighting during your detention, I will find you a punishment that is even worse."

"Yes, Professor," the boys chorused, looking gloomier by the minute.

The bell signaling the end of class rang. "Class dismissed," Blackmore said. "I still need to finish examining your circles, so be careful not to step on them on your way out."

His group would probably not get full marks for their circle, Draco thought sullenly, since they had not finished it, and it was all Potter and Weasley's fault! He reached over to grab his bag and books, but froze when he saw his desk. It had been his desk Blackmore had leaned against, and there were five shallow grooves carved into the desktop where she had dragged her fingernails across it. The desks were made of very strong, sturdy, and possibly enchanted wood, because they were meant to survive potion spills and misfired spells, not to mention mischievous students trying to carve their initials into their desks with penknives. Draco scraped the top of the desk with his thumbnail as hard as he could; it didn't make the slightest scratch or dent in the wood.

"Draco?" Nott asked cautiously. He and Crabbe and Goyle were staring at him curiously as they waited for him. The other students had already left. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Come on, let's go." But he glanced back at his teacher as they headed for the door. She stared back at him impassively, her arms crossed over her chest; her long fingernails appeared to be undamaged. Bane cawed out a mocking laugh in his hoarse, croaking voice, and Draco flushed as he hurried out of the room.

_Bane,_ he thought to himself. _Mother said that was her familiar's name back then, too._ Could it possibly be the same bird? How long did ravens live, anyway? But if Blackmore had remained youthful all these years, then why shouldn't her bird have done so as well? Where had she been all these years, and what had killed the three Death Eaters who attacked her...?

Those questions kept him preoccupied all day, even through his detention. Potter and Weasley watched him suspiciously, but he remained sullenly silent all afternoon as they swept up owl feathers and scrubbed owl dung off the floor, and said not one word, not a single insult to the two Gryffindor boys.

*** 

Professor Lupin's classes were having difficulty with their Patronus Charms, and he had told them he thought they might make more progress if they had something to practice on, and had promised to bring a "surprise" to class today.

"What do you think it will be?" Ginny Weasley asked eagerly.

"Another boggart?" Colin Creevey suggested.

"A boggart wouldn't be much of a surprise," Damien snorted.

"So who asked you?" Creevey retorted.

Before Damien could reply, Lupin entered the classroom, and everyone stared at the odd creature perched on his shoulder. It was a winged, lizard-like creature about the size of a cat; it looked like a miniature dragon, but it seemed oddly insubstantial, as if it were made of black smoke. 

"This is an elemental creature," Lupin explained cheerfully, "that has been summoned for us by Professor Blackmore. His name is Soot, and he has agreed to help us with our lesson today." The smoke-dragon dipped its head politely in greeting.

"What kind of elemental is he, Professor?" Ginny asked.

"He is a creature of air and fire," Lupin replied, gently chucking it under the chin. "Soot will attack you, and you will try to repel him with the Patronus Charm." The students looked nervous, and Lupin grinned. "He won't actually hurt you, but there will be...ah...consequences if your spell fails."

"The Patronus Charm won't hurt him, will it?" Ginny asked anxiously.

"No, Ginny," Lupin said with a smile. "Professor Blackmore would be quite upset if I hurt one of her friends, and it would take a braver man than me to cross Professor Blackmore!" 

The class laughed nervously, and lesson began. Ginny went first. Soot launched himself into the air and lunged towards her, smoky claws extended, and his mouth opened wide, exposing sharp fangs as he spat forth a little tongue of flame. Ginny went a little pale, but raised her wand and said, "Expecto Patronum!" in a firm voice. A silver cat interposed itself between the girl and the elemental, and Soot broke off his attack.

Brad Doherty went next, and the class saw what the "consequences" Lupin mentioned were, and why "Soot" was an appropriate name for the elemental. Brad was only able to summon forth a small silver wisp, which Soot flew right through. Brad threw his arm up to ward off the attack, but all the elemental did was blow a cloud of black smoke into his face. Brad doubled over coughing, and when the smoke cleared, he was left with a black, soot-covered face. The class--both Slytherin and Gryffindor--burst into laughter, and Brad glared at them.

"That's not very nice," Lupin chided them, handing Brad a towel so he could wipe off his face. "Besides, you don't know how many of you will end up with a faceful of soot as well." The class subsided, and Lupin said kindly to Brad, "I'm sure you'll do better on your next try." Brad just scowled and flung the towel back at Lupin.

Creevey went next. His silver cloud repelled most of Soot's attack, but he did end up with a few smudges on his face. The students began treating it like a game, laughing and giggling, and apparently Soot felt they were not taking him seriously enough, because when it was Damien's turn, he suddenly grew larger--his claws and fangs growing in proportion--and he didn't look quite so insubstantial.

Apparently, fear was a good teacher. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Damien shouted frantically, and for the first time, he cast a full-fledged Patronus, a shining silvery hound that leapt protectively in front of the boy and bared its teeth, sending a suddenly diminished Soot winging back to the safety of Lupin's shoulder.

"Very good!" Lupin said, applauding, and Damien beamed proudly. "Dylan, you're next."

Dylan stepped forward, raising his wand as the smoke-dragon attacked. "Expecto Patronum!" A cloud of shining mist emerged from his wand and shaped itself into a huge silver rose with wicked-looking thorns growing along its stem. Soot came to a complete halt in mid-air and just stared at it.

"Ooh, it's so pretty!" one of the Gryffindor girls squealed.

"That's...very unusual," said Lupin, turning a little pale. "A Patronus usually takes animal form."

"Did I do it wrong, Professor?" Dylan asked, feeling a little hurt and disappointed at Lupin's reaction to his first successful casting of a Patronus.

"No, no," Lupin said hastily. "You did very well, Dylan!" But his smile was a little forced, and his cheerful tone falsely hearty, and there was a very worried look in his blue eyes.

Soot still seemed bewildered by the rose, not sure if it was a threat or not. He made a tentative feint at it, and the rose stem suddenly lengthened and lashed out like a whip. The elemental let out a frightened little yelp and fled back to Lupin's shoulder, hiding beneath his long hair.

"Well, it's certainly effective," Lupin said, although he still looked a little worried. "Well done, Dylan."

Still feeling puzzled and hurt, Dylan dispelled the charm and let the next student take their turn. Lupin had to pet and coax Soot for a few minutes before he would come out of hiding and resume his work. The rest of the students were able to at least partially repel the elemental's attack, and Serafina Avery was also able to cast a full Patronus. Like Dylan's, hers took a somewhat unusual form: this time it was the vague silvery outline of a woman clad in long robes, with a magnificent set of silver-feathered wings sprouting from her back. The class gasped in awe. 

"My, my," Lupin said, his eyes wide. "Another unusual Patronus; quite remarkable." He didn't seem troubled by Serafina's Patronus, as he had by Dylan's, though. He smiled at her and said, "Very beautiful, and very appropriate." Some of the class looked a little puzzled. "Serafina's name means 'angel,'" he explained, "and it seems that is the form her Patronus has taken."

"A devil would be more appropriate," one of the Gryffindor boys muttered. 

The expression on Serafina's face did not change, but Lupin looked angry. "Ten points from Gryffindor!" he snapped. "I will not have that kind of talk in my classroom, do you understand?"

The Gryffindor boy looked surprised, and a little resentful. "But everyone knows that her father's a Death Eater--" 

"Have you learned nothing during the past four years?" Lupin interrupted. "Hasn't the Headmaster taught you to judge people as individuals, not by what 'everyone' says? After all," he continued in a sarcastic voice, "'everyone' knows that giants are evil and that werewolves are monsters." Some of the Gryffindors looked shamefaced, but the boy still looked resentful.

"I don't care what they think, Professor," Serafina said indifferently. "And you're wasting your breath; they won't change their minds."

"Well, I care, Serafina," Lupin said gently. "And I think you're wrong; I think people can change their minds. I always hid the fact that I was a werewolf because I thought people would hate and fear me. But here I am, teaching at Hogwarts."

"No thanks to Snape," one of the Gryffindors muttered under their breath.

Lupin smiled. "Actually, Professor Snape did me a favor." The entire class stared at him in shock; even Serafina allowed a little surprise to creep into her usually expressionless face. "After he exposed the fact that I was a werewolf, I found out who my real friends were. Some people rejected me, it is true, but others stood by me, more than I thought would. I'm sure some of you were frightened when you first heard, but still, you have welcomed me back as your teacher. That is because you have learned to see me as a person, and not just a werewolf. You should also learn to see your classmates as people, as individuals, and not just as Slytherins or Gryffindors, or the children of Death Eaters."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, then Lupin resumed the lesson. The much-subdued class went through a second round of attacks, and this time, most of them, even Brad, did much better. Lupin congratulated them on their progress and doled out points; Slytherin came out slightly ahead, due to Gryffindor's lost points, and because Damien, Dylan, and Serafina had each earned extra points for conjuring a full Patronus. But Dylan left class feeling a little uneasy as he wondered why his Patronus should have disturbed Lupin so deeply.

*** 

Lupin used the short break between classes to go to his office and compose himself. He felt warm breath on his cheek, and realized that Soot was nuzzling him in concern. He absent-mindedly petted the elemental, getting soot all over his hand, which didn't really bother him, because his hair and robes were already covered with black streaks and smudges anyway, from Soot perching on his shoulder and hiding under his hair. It would have been easier to find a boggart rather than have Branwen go through the trouble of summoning up an elemental, but Lupin was afraid of what form the boggart might take. Dylan's worst fear was probably Voldemort, and more damningly, Lupin's worst fear was no longer the moon...he suspected that the boggart would probably take the form of a slain Severus Snape when he faced it, and that would be a dead giveaway as to his true feelings for Severus. Not to mention that Lupin had no desire to see even an illusion of his lover lying dead on the floor.

Lupin was badly shaken by the sight of Dylan's rose Patronus, which brought to mind Miyako's vision of bloody roses, and Kingsley Shacklebolt's story about flowers on the Rosier estate that attacked all intruders. He should be pleased that Dylan was able to cast a full Patronus, because no doubt he would need all the protection he could get, but he could not shake the feeling that the silver rose had been a very ominous portent...

*** 

It was a Friday night in early October, and Snape was relaxing in his quarters with Lupin. They were sitting on the couch sharing a bottle of wine, and Snape had just set down his glass so he could lean over to kiss Lupin, when suddenly a burning pain erupted in his left arm.

"Severus! Are you all right?"

Snape looked up to see Lupin's blue eyes gazing at him anxiously. He forced himself to sit up straight and unclench his fingers from around his forearm; he did not remember doubling over in pain and grabbing his arm, but apparently he had. "Yes," he hissed, but Lupin didn't appear to be comforted.

"Is it...Voldemort?"

In reply, Snape pulled up the sleeve of his robe; the Dark Mark on his arm had turned a deep black and was clearly visible.

"Oh, Severus," Lupin whispered, reaching out to touch it. Snape knew from experience that it was burning hot to the touch; Lupin flinched slightly but did not pull away. He caressed the Mark, then kissed it, and the gentle touch of Lupin's lips seemed to ease the pain slightly. "You weren't expecting this, were you?"

"Not at this moment, no," Snape said, "but I have been expecting a summons for some time now. He hinted during the summer that he wanted to see Dylan again..."

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door, and Dylan's frightened voice called out, "Professor Snape?"

"I'll be right there, Rosier," Snape called back. "Go hide in the bedroom," he whispered to Lupin, who nodded and obeyed, closing the door behind him.

*** 

Dylan was in his room, playing Exploding Snap with his friends, when suddenly it felt like his left forearm had caught fire. He cried out, and at the very last second, realizing what it must be, managed to stop himself from clutching at his arm. His friends were Slytherins, and Theodore was the son of a Death Eater, and grabbing his arm would be a dead giveaway that he himself was a Death Eater. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his stomach.

"Dylan!" Damien exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

"No," Dylan said, not having to feign a groan of pain. "I think I'm sick."

"What's wrong?" Blaise asked anxiously. "Do you have a stomachache?"

Damien frowned. "Snape made us test our potions on ourselves today, but Dylan never makes mistakes in Potions class..."

"I must have done something wrong," Dylan said. "Or maybe one of the Gryffindors poisoned my dinner."

"Maybe you'd better go to the hospital wing," Blaise suggested.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Dylan said.

"Want me to go with you?" Damien asked.

"No, no, I'll be fine," Dylan said hastily. 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, really, I'm sure it's nothing," Dylan replied. "I probably just ate too much candy before dinner. I'll just get Madam Pomfrey to give me a tonic."

"Well, if you're sure..."

As Dylan left, he noticed Theodore staring at him with a worried and suspicious look on his face. Theo was no idiot; he probably suspected the truth, but Dylan didn't have time to think about that now. He ran, not to the hospital wing, but to Snape's quarters and knocked on the door urgently. "Professor Snape?"

"I'll be right there, Rosier," Snape answered, and a moment later, his teacher answered the door and ushered him in.

"Professor," Dylan said, pulling up the sleeve of his robe.

"I know," Snape said. "I felt it, too. Wait here a moment while I get our robes." Snape went into the next room, presumably the bedroom, and closed the door behind him. Dylan paced back and forth in the sitting room, wondering what was taking Snape so long, then suddenly he noticed something odd. There were _two_ wineglasses sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch, along with a half-empty bottle of wine. Had Snape had company tonight? Had that person left, or was he or she hiding in the bedroom? But who on earth could Snape's mysterious companion be? Dylan couldn't really picture Snape sitting around sharing a friendly drink with anyone on the staff...

*** 

Snape fetched his Death Eater robe from the back of his closet, along with the smaller one that he'd had made for Dylan over the summer. Lupin opened his mouth, but Snape laid a finger across it to silence him. "I only have a minute," he whispered, "so listen carefully. I want you to go to Black's house and wait for me. If anything goes wrong, I'll take the boy there; Dumbledore has given me special dispensation to bring Dylan there in the event of an emergency." He didn't know if Dumbledore had informed Black of that little matter, but that wasn't Snape's problem. "It's the safest place I can think of, other than this school, and I can't Apparate directly into the castle. I'm not going to waste time hiking across the grounds if Dylan is injured or if I have a pack of Death Eaters chasing after me."

Lupin nodded. "Should I gather reinforcements?" he asked softly.

Snape paused to consider. "I don't really think that will be necessary, but perhaps you can take Branwen with you, just in case. And inform the Headmaster where I've gone, and that I've taken Dylan." Lupin nodded again. "Hopefully, nothing will go wrong, and we'll simply return to the school, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Either way, I'll send you a message as soon as I can."

"Be careful, Severus," Lupin whispered. "Come back to me."

"As soon as I can, Remus," Snape replied. 

"I love you, Severus," Lupin whispered fiercely, throwing his arms around Snape.

"I love you, too, Remus," Snape said, returning the embrace. He held his lover tightly for a moment, then reluctantly let him go, giving him a quick kiss before returning to Dylan.

*** 

Snape emerged after a couple of minutes, carrying two black robes. "A gift for you, Rosier," he said with a mirthless smile, holding one out to Dylan. It had a black hood, with two eye-slits, that could be pulled down over the face. "Put it on after we get off the school grounds."

They left Snape's quarters and went down a dungeon corridor that led to a dead end. Snape touched three bricks in the wall in quick succession, and a secret door slid open. "You are not to use this passageway unless I am with you, or in a life-or-death emergency, because I will kill you myself if I catch you sneaking out on some boyish prank, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Dylan replied. Sneaking out of the castle held little appeal for him; he would much rather stay in school, safe and sound, protected by his teachers, especially tonight.

"I'll show you how to get back in, too," Snape said grimly. "Just in case...something happens...and you have to return alone."

Dylan turned sheet-white. He had the feeling that if "something happened" to Snape, his chances of returning to Hogwarts would be next to nil, anyway.

"Of course," Snape continued, "I expect to be returning with you, but it's always best to be prepared."

"Yes, sir," Dylan whispered.

"Remember your Occlumency lessons, and remember to keep control of your emotions."

"Yes, sir."

"And stay alert. If..." Snape hesitated. "If anything goes wrong, I may have to Apparate us out of there. If I say, 'to me,' I want you to run to my side instantly, understand?"

"Yes, sir," Dylan repeated miserably. _Why did I ever want to be a Death Eater?_ he asked himself despairingly.

"Control, Rosier," Snape said sternly, but he laid his hand on Dylan's shoulder for a moment, in a comforting manner.

That brief touch did give him comfort, and strength. He took a deep breath, steadied his emotions, and reinforced his mental walls. Snape nodded approvingly, and they continued down the passageway.

*** 

Snape Apparated himself and the boy blindly, following the call of the Dark Mark. He found that they had not reappeared in the Dark Lord's underground chambers, but outside a large mansion. The black iron fence surrounding the mansion was flecked with rust, and the grounds were overgrown with rosebushes, the vines growing up along the walls of the house, nearly obscuring it from view. Two dark-robed figures stepped forward out of the shadows.

"Where are we?" Dylan whispered nervously.

Voldemort threw back the hood of his robe and smiled. "Do you not recognize it, Dylan? Ah, but that's right--you have never seen it before. This is your ancestral home, the Rosier estate."

"My father's home?" Dylan asked, and his eyes widened as he stared at the mansion. 

Snape frowned at the almost eager tone of his voice. It was natural for the boy to be fascinated by his father's home, but he hoped that Dylan wouldn't forget the danger they were in. The Dark Lord would not have summoned them here just so that the boy could bond with his father's memory.

"There were a couple of Aurors keeping surveillance on the mansion," Voldemort said in an almost casual voice. "I had to have some of the others provide a distraction to lure them away. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Severus?"

"No, my Lord," Snape replied in a level voice. "But Mad-Eye Moody is convinced that Dylan will follow in his father's footsteps. He has tried to persuade Dumbledore that the boy cannot be trusted, and I suppose it is possible that he got some of his contacts at the Ministry to take him seriously. It is a logical assumption that Dylan might one day go to his father's estate, and try to claim whatever spellbooks or magical items there might be in the mansion. I'm sure Moody has visions of Dark Magic items lying about for the taking..." 

"Perhaps," Voldemort agreed, although he didn't sound convinced. "I wonder why...my source...at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement heard nothing of this."

Snape grinned beneath the hood of his robe; Voldemort's "source" was Gwydion Donner, of course. He maliciously hoped that Donner would get in trouble for not keeping his Master properly informed. 

"No one has been able to enter the estate for over fifteen years," Voldemort said to Dylan, "since your father's parents died. You see, only a Rosier can safely bypass the guardians." He motioned towards the rosebushes. "Though many have tried, to their detriment." He gave the Death Eater standing next to him a pointed look.

"I was only trying to obtain that which you desired, Master," Bellatrix Lestrange said sullenly, and suddenly Snape understood how she had sustained the injuries that had nearly killed her during the summer. She had tried to break into the Rosier mansion, and had been attacked by the magical roses; the scratches and puncture wounds were not bite and claw marks, but had been caused by the thorns of the rosebushes.

"You were trying to redeem yourself in my eyes after your failure to obtain the Prophecy!" Voldemort snapped. "And you failed yet again! You are a fool, Bellatrix; I told you no one but Dylan could get past the roses, but you did not believe me. I should have let you die for your stupidity and insolence, and I would have, had not most of your comrades been in Azkaban!"

No Death Eater was foolish enough to talk back to the Dark Lord, and Bellatrix bowed her head humbly, but Snape could feel her seething with anger and resentment. He would have to watch her carefully to make sure she did not try to take out her resentment on Dylan later.

"So you see," Voldemort said, motioning for Dylan to step forward, "I have a very important task for you. Lead the way, child, and claim what is yours by right of birth."

"I am honored, my Lord," Dylan said in a steady voice. He stepped forward and hesitantly reached out to touch the gates. They, along with the fence, were made of black iron bars topped with sharp spikes, and the lock in the center of the gate was wrought in the shape of a rose. As soon as he touched it, the rose-shaped stone in his ring began to glow red, and the gates swung upon with a loud creak. Dylan jumped a little, then took a deep breath, and stepped through the gates. The roses pulled back with a soft, rustling noise, clearing a path for him. Dylan nervously followed that path to the house, and his companions followed behind him. The roses let them pass, although Snape noticed that roses were drawing back together after they had gone by, closing off any possible avenue of escape. 

They reached the front door; there was a knocker on it shaped--of course--like a rose. Before Dylan could even touch the door it soundlessly swung open, and they entered the house, finding themselves inside a dark hallway.

"Who dares enter the House of Rosier?" a deep voice boomed, and Dylan jumped back with a start, pulling his wand out of his robes.

Snape jumped a little, too, but he recognized the voice. "It's all right," he said softly. "That is your great-grandfather." He took out his own wand and said, "Lumos." The tip of the wand lit with a dim glow, illuminating the hall just enough so that they could make out the portraits hanging on the wall. An elderly man was glaring out of one of them; his features bore a resemblance to Dylan's, and despite his white hair and wrinkles, he was still handsome, but there was a cold hardness to his dark eyes that gave him a menacing appearance. 

Dylan pulled back his hood and said boldly, "I am Dylan Rosier, son of Evan, and I have every right to be here!"

The elder Rosier peered more closely at him. "Evan's boy? I did not know he had a son, but we have been cut off from the outside world for many years. You certainly look like him, and the roses would never have let you pass, otherwise. I suppose he got you upon that Ravenclaw girl he took up with." His voice turned scornful. "I knew no good would come of that, but did Evan listen? No, he was always a stubborn, willful--"

"Those are my parents you're talking about," Dylan said in a cold voice as he raised his wand threateningly. "Speak of them with respect, or I'll--"

"Or you'll what?" the portrait sneered. "Blast me into pieces? A young whelp like you? You haven't the power for that."

"But I do," Voldemort said in a dangerously soft voice as he stepped forward into view of the portrait. "Hello, Armand."

"You!" Armand Rosier gasped, a hint of fear entering his voice. Then his eyes filled with hatred and he hissed in a low voice, "You were the one who got my grandson killed!"

"Aurors killed your grandson," Voldemort said coolly, "not I."

"They killed him because he was fool enough to join your cause," Armand snarled. 

"As I recall, once upon a time, you did not think my cause was foolish."

"Would I like to see the world rid of Mudbloods and half-breeds?" Armand retorted. "Yes, of course! But to make open war upon the wizarding world was a fool's errand. It was too dangerous, and I told Evan so, but he did not listen. I told his parents to stop him, but they always overindulged the boy and had no control over him! And they, too, were enamored of your ideals..." Suddenly Armand's voice changed from angry to bitter and weary. "Their deaths, too, I lay at your feet. This house lies empty and abandoned because of you. Are you now going to get my very last descendant killed, Voldemort?"

Voldemort laid a hand on Dylan's shoulder; Dylan turned pale, but did not object. "I intend to take good care of Dylan," he purred. "He is, after all, the son of one my most loyal followers, who died rather than betray me." He caressed Dylan's cheek with his white, bony fingers, and the boy trembled, not quite able to hide the fear in his silver-gray eyes. "You are eager to serve me, are you not, Dylan?"

"Yes, Master," Dylan whispered.

"You are a fool, boy," Armand said.

"Serve me well, child, and you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams," Voldemort said, in a voice rich with promise, and Snape remembered how persuasive that voice had seemed to a couple of Slytherin boys who were eager for power and revenge.

"Your only reward will be death," Armand said in a hollow voice.

"You are wrong," Bellatrix said defiantly. "Those who oppose the Dark Lord are the ones who will die!"

"That voice I recognize," Armand said slowly. "Bellatrix Black...no, it's Lestrange now, isn't it? One of Evan's foolish friends..." His eyes turned to Snape. "And you..."

Snape glanced at Voldemort, who nodded slightly, and he pulled back his hood from his face. 

"Judging by that nose," Armand said dryly, "you must be a Snape. Yes, I remember you now; Evan brought you by the house a few times. Severin, was it...?"

"Severus," Snape growled.

"Why are you still alive when your friend, my grandson, is dead, Severus?" Armand asked coldly.

"Severus does not answer to you," Voldemort said sharply. "He and your great-grandson answer only to me. This has been amusing, Armand, but we have no more time to chat with you tonight."

Armand stared back at him with defiant and despairing eyes. "You are using my great-grandson to get your hands on the treasure of the Rosier House!"

Voldemort pointed his wand at the portrait, and Armand vanished, leaving behind a blank canvas. The Dark Lord pocketed his wand and laughed scornfully. "You are a coward despite all your bold talk, Armand!"

"Wh-what should I do next, my Lord?" Dylan stammered.

"What we want is upstairs, on the very top floor. Severus, perhaps you can help him find his way." 

Snape nodded, and still holding his lit wand aloft, said, "The staircase is this way." 

There were other portraits lining the walls of the hallway, but the people in them quickly averted their eyes as the Death Eaters and their Master passed by. "Are any of these my father's parents?" Dylan asked Snape softly.

Snape looked at the paintings and shook his head. "No, I don't think they ever had portraits made of themselves. No one expected them to die so young."

Everything in the house was covered with a thick layer of dust, as Dylan found out when he placed his hand on the bannister of the staircase. He quickly jerked his hand back and wiped it on his robe. There were also cobwebs hanging in corners and from the dusty chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. They saw no sign of the spiders that had spun them, though; they saw no sign of anything living in the house other than themselves. Finally, they reached the topmost landing, and found their way barred by a door that was painted black and covered with red runes of warding.

"It will open for the heir of the house," Voldemort said, and Dylan placed his hand on the doorknob. His ring briefly glowed red again, and the doorknob turned easily under his hand. The door opened into a small room that appeared to be a wizard's workshop. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with spellbooks and tomes on Dark Magic, and there was a long table that held beakers and bowls and jars filled with ingredients that had long ago dried up and turned to dust. On a small round table in one corner of the room sat a black ceramic flowerpot painted with the Rosier crest, a red rose in bloom. Growing up out of the pot was a single white rosebud, its petals still tightly furled. 

"Pick up the flowerpot, Dylan," Voldemort ordered. "Be careful to touch only the pot, and not the flower."

Dylan looked a little puzzled, no doubt wondering why the Dark Lord had gone to all this trouble just to retrieve a flower, but he knew better than to question his Master's orders. "Yes, my Lord," he said obediently, and carefully picked up the flowerpot. The rosebud quivered a little when his hands touched the pot, and Dylan stared at it apprehensively.

"We must leave now, quickly," Voldemort said. "There is a spell on the house and grounds preventing anyone but a Rosier from Apparating in or out." 

They went back down the stairs, Dylan carefully holding the flowerpot in front of him. Armand was back in his portrait; he frowned unhappily as they left, but said nothing. As soon as they were outside of the gates, Voldemort said, "I will go first, and summon you to me." 

Voldemort had not entrusted his followers--at least, he had not entrusted Snape--with the exact location of his hideout; they knew only that it appeared to be an underground complex of rooms, perhaps a hidden system of caverns, or the basement of some old, ruined manor. Thus, Voldemort always summoned them by using their Dark Marks, which allowed them to Apparate blindly to their Master's side. Voldemort Disapparated, and a moment later Snape felt his Mark burn. Dylan winced, but was careful not to drop the flowerpot. Bellatrix vanished, and Snape put an arm around Dylan, pulling him close--though he was careful not to touch the rosebud--and Disapparated as well.

They re-emerged in the usual place, Voldemort's underground chambers. Bellatrix was there, as well as a few other Death Eaters, but--since there was no cry of shock and outrage when they saw Dylan--Snape assumed that the Donner brothers were not among them.

"Do you know what you are holding, Dylan?" Voldemort asked.

"No, my Lord," Dylan replied.

"That is the great treasure of the Rosier family, which can be safely wielded only by the head of the clan," the Dark Lord said, smiling with amusement as his Death Eaters gasped in shock. No one wanted to ask the obvious question, but Voldemort knew what they were thinking. "It doesn't look like much, does it? That is because it is dormant. Set the pot down in that corner, child." Dylan obeyed, kneeling down to set the flowerpot on the floor in the far corner of the room. "The blood of a Rosier is required to awaken its powers," Voldemort said; Snape did not much like the sound of that. "Reach out and touch the thorns on the rose, Dylan."

Dylan's gray eyes flickered nervously to Snape, and Voldemort frowned. Praying that he was not making a fatal mistake, Snape said sharply, "What are you looking at me for, boy? Your Master gave you an order!"

Dylan quickly reached out and touched the stem of the rose, allowing the thorns to prick his fingers. He cried out in pain, and thin trickles of blood began running down his hand--more blood than should be flowing from such small wounds. But no one other than Snape seemed to notice, because the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord were captivated by the sight of the rosebud, which slowly turned from white to pink to deep red, and its petals opened and unfurled; it was now a rose in full bloom.

The Dark Lord let out a little sigh of satisfaction, and Dylan tried to pull his hand away from the flower, but the thorns had bitten deeply into his fingers and would not let go. An increasing sense of franticness filled his eyes as he tried unsuccessfully to tug his hand loose, then suddenly the stem of the rose began to lengthen and put out offshoots; soon it was not a single flower but a series of long vines bearing one red rose and several white rosebuds; the black flowerpot also seemed to expand in size to accommodate the growing plant. The vines snapped out like whips, wrapping themselves around Dylan's arms and torso, and the boy screamed in terror.

Snape started to reach for his wand, but Voldemort's crimson eyes instantly shifted from the rose vines to Snape. "No, Severus," he said sternly, then smiled. It was not a reassuring sight. "Become fond of the boy, have you?" he asked in a light, almost joking tone, but his eyes were watching Snape carefully. "It is not like you to be so sentimental, Severus. Are you worried about your young student?"

Snape let his hand drop back to his side, and said in a sour voice, "I am more worried about what will happen if I return to the school with a bloodless corpse." The rose vines' long, needle-like thorns had torn right through Dylan's robes to bite into his flesh; he was drenched in blood, and still screaming and struggling wildly. Snape fought to ignore those screams and remain outwardly calm and emotionless. "It would be difficult to explain a student's death or disappearance," Snape continued, as if he were speaking of a minor annoyance. "Are the roses really supposed to be doing that? It rather defeats the purpose of having a family treasure if that treasure kills the last living heir."

Voldemort chuckled, as if reassured by Snape's response. "I don't want the boy to die any more than you do, Severus; I need him to control the roses. But they have been dormant for many, many years--possibly generations, and they are thirsty. There is a reason why Dylan's grandparents never used this weapon, not even when they set out on their suicidal mission of revenge after Evan was killed. The roses will obey the true head of the family once they have tasted that person's blood, but will kill one who is weak or unworthy. Family legend has it that the roses were gifted to the founder of the Rosier clan by a demon, and it is indeed the sort of double-edged gift that a demon might find amusing. But since young Dylan is the last surviving member of the family, and he does seem to be quite a strong-willed lad, I do not think the roses will kill him."

Snape did not want to leave Dylan's life up to chance, and might have broken his cover to rescue Dylan and take him to safety, but with Voldemort alerted and watching him so closely, he knew that he had little chance of succeeding. To his great relief, the vines released Dylan and let him fall limply to the floor; they settled back quiescently into their pot, now bearing a dozen healthy-looking blood-red roses. 

Snape cautiously approached--he wanted to run, but did not dare let the Dark Lord or the Death Eaters see how concerned he was about the boy--and dragged Dylan out of reach of the roses. The boy was pale, but still conscious, and he whispered, "Professor..."

Voldemort leaned down to examine Dylan. "He lost a lot of blood, but he should live," he said in a dispassionate voice. Then he reached into his robes, took out a small glass flask, and filled it with blood from one of the still-flowing wounds on Dylan's arm.

_Control,_ Snape thought to himself, reinforcing his mental walls, ruthlessly suppressing his emotions. He could not afford to feel anger, horror, or outrage right now; that would have to wait till later. But he knew what Voldemort must want the blood for; the Dark Lord would want to control such a powerful Dark Magic weapon himself, and not have to rely on a teenaged boy to do it for him. He would use Dylan's blood in an attempt to create a spell or potion that would allow him to control the roses directly, without having to use an intermediary.

"Dylan," Voldemort said, "break off one of the blossoms for me. Just the blossom, mind you, and not the stem or thorns." Dylan hesitated, eyes still filled with fear, but for once the Dark Lord did not punish that hesitation, and said almost indulgently, "The roses acknowledge you as their master now; they will not harm you."

"Yes, my Lord," Dylan said. He crawled back to the roses--he was so weak that Snape had to support him--and reached out and grasped one of the red blossoms; it broke off easily, almost falling into his palm, and the vines remained quiet and still. Voldemort's words were true, it seemed. Dylan placed the rose into the Dark Lord's eagerly outstretched hand.

"You did very well, Dylan; I am pleased with you," Voldemort said approvingly. "I am sure your father would be proud of you."

"Thank you, my Lord," Dylan replied in a soft but steady voice, sounding genuinely flattered. "I am honored to serve you."

He didn't know if Evan would have been proud of Dylan, but Snape knew that he was very proud of the boy. He had been attacked and nearly killed by demonic roses, had lost so much blood that he couldn't even walk, but he still managed to stay in control of himself and keep up the appearance of a loyal Death Eater.

"You may go now, Severus," Voldemort said, now more concerned with the flower and flask of blood than he was with the bleeding boy lying on the floor at his feet. His crimson eyes had a distracted look to them; no doubt he was eager to begin his magical research. As usual, once he had what he wanted, he showed little concern for the minion who had been wounded in his service. "You had best get Mr. Rosier back to school and tend to his wounds."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said. He bowed to his Master, then gathered Dylan into his arms and Disapparated.

*** 

Sirius missed Lupin and Branwen and the children when they left in the fall. He was so lonely and bored that he even missed arguing with Snape, for Merlin's sake! So he was happy to have the company of the little hob, who made the house a much nicer place to live in. The house seemed brighter and more cheerful somehow, even though a hob had only very small magics. Faded, peeling wallpaper was magically repaired and its colors restored--no changed, to colors more cheerful than Mrs. Black would ever have allowed in her home. Similarly, moth-eaten curtains and worn-out carpeting soon looked like new, and Hob drew back the heavy drapes from the windows to let the sunlight in. (A spell, cast by Sirius's paranoid father, allowed the occupants of the house to look out through the windows, but people from the outside could not see in.)

Sirius thought that his mother's portrait would have a fit when she saw what Hob was doing to her house, and indeed she did loudly object the first time she saw him in her hallway, but Hob's little repairs lessened the chances of noises awakening her, and the comfortable, homey air that Hob's presence created seemed to send the portraits into a dormant slumber.

Sirius considered moving to Hogsmeade to be closer to Harry and the others, but he did not want to leave Hob behind; a hob would not be happy in an empty house, and Sirius felt grateful to Hob, who had brightened his gloomy home, and always had the fire started and a pot of tea ready when Sirius woke up in the morning, and who would play chess with Sirius in the evenings to ease his loneliness even though hobs didn't really care for such games. Of course, a hob was bound more to his people than a particular place, so he could take Hob with him if he moved, but when Sirius went down to Hogsmeade to look at apartments, he did not like the reaction he got...

Sirius and Hob were playing chess one evening in the drawing room. Hob was puffing contentedly on his pipe in between sipping a cup of tea and nibbling on a chocolate-covered biscuit; the little household spirit had a sweet-tooth as strong as Snape's. He moved his chess pieces seemingly at random, with no thought to strategy, but a hob's luck was so strong that occasionally he won a game through sheer good luck. Sirius heaved a heavy sigh.

"Mister--excuse me, Sirius--is unhappy?" Hob asked anxiously.

"Just bored, I suppose," Sirius sighed. "I miss Harry and Branwen and the others."

"The house is quiet without them," Hob agreed. "Wasn't Sirius thinking of moving to Hogsmeade, though? Hob does not mind; Hob can keep house anywhere."

Sirius sighed again. "There's no point to it, really. Harry and the others are too busy with school; I wouldn't be able to see them except on the weekends, and maybe not even then if they have a big project to work on. But mainly..." Sirius grimaced. "But mainly, I didn't like the reception I got when I went to Hogsmeade the other week. Even though my name has been cleared, people still look at me fearfully, and cross the street when they see me coming. They act like they think I'm still a murderer."

Hob looked uncomfortable; such problems were beyond his powers to solve. "That will change with time," he said, sounding hopeful but not at all certain of that. "But it isn't really good for Sirius to be alone, with only a hob for company. Perhaps the Mister should find himself a Missus, and perhaps have a few Babies?" 

Sirius had to chuckle at the even more hopeful expression on Hob's face; a hob was not really happy unless he had a family to take care of. "Well, maybe someday," he said, then smiled wryly. "It's not like there are a lot of women standing in line to be the next Mrs. Black."

Before Hob could reply, they heard the front door open and slam shut. Sirius jumped to his feet, grabbing his wand, and Hob vanished. A minute later, Lupin and Branwen walked into the room. 

"Oh, it's you," Sirius said with relief, pocketing his wand, and Hob became visible again. "What's up?" Sirius frowned. "This isn't just a friendly visit, is it?''

Branwen looked solemn, and Lupin looked pale and worried. "Severus has been summoned by Voldemort--along with Dylan. He told us to come and wait here in case--" Lupin's voice faltered for a moment. "In case anything goes wrong."

Sirius was not too thrilled about Snape using his house as a refuge, but he could hardly object, since it was the Phoenix headquarters. Besides, Lupin looked troubled enough as it was, without Sirius adding to his burden by behaving selfishly, as he had done in the past. So he swallowed his objections and motioned for his friends to take a seat on the couch, and without being bidden, Hob quietly fetched two more cups of tea and another plate of biscuits. The tea went mostly untouched, and Bane ate most of the biscuits. Branwen and Lupin attempted to make small talk about school, but their efforts fell flat, and they finally gave up and waited in silence. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably an hour or two, the front door slammed again and they heard the sound of footsteps on the staircase. As the three wizards jumped to their feet, Snape entered the room, carrying Dylan Rosier in his arms; the boy's robes were torn and soaked with blood.

*** 

Dylan was just barely conscious; he could see and hear, but everything seemed hazy and somehow removed, as if it were being filtered through a thick glass window that muffled and distorted sight and sound.

"Oh my God!" an unfamiliar voice exclaimed; it belonged to a tall man with long, dark hair.

"Severus, are you all right?" Professor Lupin cried. "What happened?!" Dylan frowned; what was Lupin doing here? Where were they, anyway? This didn't look like Hogwarts...

"Lay him down here," Professor Blackmore said. Maybe they were at Hogwarts, after all...

"Shacklebolt's guess was right, after all," Snape said. "The Dark Lord wanted to use Dylan to get his hands on a weapon--some sort of vampiric roses that require the blood of a Rosier to waken their powers. I think they drank more blood than they should have; the Dark Lord said they were dormant for a long time..."

Professor Blackmore looked down at Dylan, her green eyes filled with concern, and she touched his face gently, the way his mother would have. He blinked, wondering if he was hallucinating. "This is bad," she said. "The wounds are not fatal, but they are not healing properly, and he has lost a lot of blood. I sense the taint of Dark Magic, possibly even demonic magic...maybe Dedalus Diggle wasn't just talking through his nose after all, when he said the Rosiers were once demon-worshippers..."

"Perhaps we should take him to St. Mungo's," Lupin suggested.

"Only as a last resort," Snape said. "They will ask questions we cannot--or should not--answer about how he got these wounds."

"If we do nothing," Blackmore said, "he will not die, but he will be a long time healing, and in a great deal of pain--for weeks, perhaps. He needs magical healing, and none of us are true Healers. But there is one spell..." She exchanged a significant look with Snape.

"Sanguis Sanatio," Snape said quietly, and Blackmore nodded. 

Sanguis Sanatio...Blood Healing? Dylan had heard of that spell, had read about it in the Dark Magic books his mother had secretly given him. It was blood magic, Dark Magic, and banned by the Ministry of Magic.

"Hob, fetch me a knife, please," Snape said, and suddenly a round little man less than three feet high appeared out of nowhere and handed Snape a paring knife.

"It's too dangerous for you to perform the spell on yourself," Lupin said in a tone sterner than any he had ever used on his students. "You nearly killed yourself when you healed Sirius, and I won't let you do it again!"

Sirius? That name sounded familiar...and suddenly he connected the name with the face of the strange man who was hovering over him along with Snape, Lupin, and Blackmore. It was Sirius Black, whose picture Dylan had seen in the Daily Prophet, along with an accompanying story about how the supposed mass-murderer had really been innocent all along. Snape had healed Sirius Black with a Blood Healing spell? That made no sense at all...

"The spell is less dangerous if Severus performs it on a separate donor," Blackmore was saying in a soothing voice. 

"Then I will be the donor," Lupin said.

"No," Snape said firmly. "Even though you're only supposed to be contagious during the full moon, we don't know what effect the transfusion of a werewolf's blood might have on the boy. And things are complicated enough as it is without having Dylan turn furry on us every month."

"SNAPE!" Sirius Black yelled, giving Professor Snape an evil look.

Snape glared back at him, but flushed slightly and said to Lupin apologetically, "Sorry, you know I didn't mean it that way--"

Was Snape actually apologizing to Lupin?! Dylan decided that he really must be hallucinating, probably from blood loss...

Lupin just chuckled. "'Turn furry'--I actually kind of like that description!" Sirius Black rolled his eyes.

"Then I'll do it," Blackmore volunteered. 

"Meaning no offense, but you are not entirely human, Branwen," said Snape. "I don't know what effect demon blood would have on him, either. Possibly none, but I don't care to use Dylan as a guinea pig."

"Demon blood?" Dylan whispered, but so softly that none of the adults heard him. So the rumors about Professor Blackmore were true after all!

"Then who will you use as the donor?" Lupin asked in frustration.  "Branwen can perform the spell on me," Snape started to reply, but Sirius Black interrupted him.

"I'll do it," Black said, then scowled at Snape's shocked expression. "I owe you one, and quite frankly, I don't like being in your debt, Snape."

Snape recovered quickly. "Fine. But don't think that this makes us even. You still owe me."

"Argue later, you two," Professor Blackmore snapped.

Black held out his arm, and Snape made a shallow cut on his wrist with the paring knife. Then Snape raised his wand and said, "Sanguis Sanatio!" Blood dripped into Dylan's mouth, and for a moment he almost gagged, but then suddenly it tasted better than anything he had ever tasted in his life; it was hot and rich and salty-sweet, and he found himself drinking it eagerly. He drank, as if in a drugged stupor, and he felt the pain receding from his body. Then the flow of blood ceased, and Dylan looked up and saw Snape's black eyes staring down at him. Surely those were not tears he saw shining in the Potions Master's eyes; it must be a trick of the light... Then Snape touched his cheek, as gently as Blackmore had, and said softly, "You'll be all right, Rosier," and Dylan lost consciousness and knew no more...

*** 

Hob watched in horror and dismay as Snape, the one whom he thought of as the Dark Man, turned up with a badly wounded boy in his arms. The boy was not one of the children who had lived in the house earlier, but all the wizards seemed to recognize him. The Dark Man ordered Hob to fetch him a knife, and Hob obeyed, then in an almost offhand remark, Snape revealed that Lady Blackmore had demon blood! So that was why she radiated such a strong aura of power! But how could Lady Blackmore be a demon when she wasn't evil? The thought was making poor Hob's head spin.

Then, further confusing him, Snape and Sirius performed a Dark Magic spell to heal the wounded boy. But the Dark Man's hand trembled with relief as he caressed the boy's face, then gently lifted the child in his arms and carried him to the rooms he and Lupin shared. Whatever else Lady Blackmore and the Dark Man might be, they were not evil, Hob decided, and that was all he needed to know. Lupin and Snape stripped off the boy's bloody robes, and Hob fetched a basin of warm water, some towels, and a clean nightshirt; the two wizards smiled at him gratefully. They bathed and dressed the boy, and tucked him into bed. 

"I should go inform Dumbledore and the boy's family about what has happened," the Dark Man said in a weary voice. "Though I don't much fancy telling Ariane what I let the Dark Lord do to her son."

"Branwen or I can take care of that, Severus," Lupin said, holding Snape's hands between his own.

"Are you sure?" the Dark Man asked, but he sounded relieved. "I really should be the one to go; after all, I am responsible for him..."

"You can face the Donner family's wrath later," Lupin said firmly. "You are the one Dylan is closest to, so you should stay here with him. What happened tonight is enough to give anyone nightmares, and you should be here at his side in case he needs comfort and reassurance."

"All right, Lupin," the Dark Man said, sounding too tired to argue.

"I'll be back later, my love," Lupin said, kissing Snape on the cheek, then he left the room.

Hob whispered a small charm of blessing to ease the boy's pain and help him sleep peacefully, then blended into the shadows in a corner of the room, invisible to human eyes, even those of a wizard, and settled down to keep watch over this new member of his household. The Dark Man pulled a chair up next to the bed to watch over the boy as well, but Hob's charm seemed to be working on him, too, because he kept yawning and his eyelids kept drooping, and finally they closed and remained shut as he slumped back in his chair. Eventually, the slow, even breathing of the two humans lulled Hob to sleep as well.

*** 

Dylan woke up, feeling weak and groggy, to find himself in an unfamiliar bed. He looked over, and to his surprise, saw Professor Snape slouched down in a chair next to him, fast asleep. Dylan had vague, hazy memories of being attacked by the roses, and being carried to a strange house where he was healed by Snape...and Sirius Black? Had Snape been watching over him all this time, while he slept? Perhaps he was still asleep, and this would all turn out to be a dream...

Then Professor Lupin opened the door and tiptoed in, carrying a blanket over one arm. To Dylan's further shock, Lupin smiled tenderly at Professor Snape and carefully draped the blanket over him, tucking it securely around his shoulders, then bent down and kissed Snape on the forehead. Snape did not stir or wake, but a contented smile--one that Dylan had never seen before--spread across his face.

Dylan felt like an idiot as he suddenly realized what the expression on the young Snape's face had been in his Occlumency memories; it had not been hatred, or at least, not solely hatred, although there might have been some of that mixed in. No, it had been obsession and desperation and longing...hitting Dylan like a ton of bricks was the realization that Professor Snape had been--still was?--in love with Lupin!

"Professor," Dylan whispered, his sleepy voice slurring the word slightly. But Lupin understood him, or maybe was just reacting to the sound of his voice, because he looked up, startled, and said, "Dylan? You're awake?"

"Y-you? And Pr-professor Snape?" Dylan stammered. He tried to sit up, but Lupin reached out and stopped him.

"No, lie back," Lupin said, gently grasping Dylan's shoulders and easing him back down on the bed. "You need to rest." 

Dylan gave in readily, since his attempt to rise had made him dizzy. He felt the bed sag slightly as Lupin sat down next to him. "What's going on?" he whispered. "Where am I? What are you doing here? And did I really see Professor Blackmore and Sirius Black?"

Lupin glanced over at Snape, apparently worried about waking him up, but the Potions Master was still sleeping soundly. "You're in a safe place," Lupin said softly. He hesitated for a long moment, then seemed to reach a decision. "This house belongs to my friend, Sirius Black. It's very well-protected; that's why Professor Snape brought you here. And yes, Professor Blackmore was here earlier, although she returned to Hogwarts once we knew you would be all right."

"Why does Professor Snape pretend to hate you?" Dylan asked.

Lupin smiled sadly. "Can't you guess, Dylan? What would Voldemort do if he discovered Severus was in a relationship with a Gryffindor ally of Dumbledore?"

"Kill him," Dylan whispered. "No--he would kill you first, slowly, and make Snape watch."

"Exactly," Lupin said gravely. "Severus fears for his own life, but he fears for my safety even more. And I fear for his. That is why we keep up our little charade at school."

Dylan's thought process was dulled by fatigue, shock, and lingering pain, but finally he put all the pieces together. "Snape has been working against the Death Eaters," he said slowly. "That's why he tried to warn me off, and why he protected me after the Dark Lord Marked me." Lupin nodded encouragingly. "He...he really did repent, during the first war; he wasn't just pretending, like everyone thought. He's still working for Dumbledore. You all are. You're working together. Against the Dark Lord."

"You're a clever boy, Dylan," Lupin said. "Just like Severus says."

"If I'd been more clever," Dylan whispered, "I wouldn't have this Mark on my arm."

"Shh," Lupin said, gently brushing Dylan's hair back from his face. "You should get some rest now."

"But," he protested weakly, "my friends back at school will be wondering what happened to me--"

"The Headmaster has told everyone that you're sick." Lupin smiled. "You made a small but very crucial error in your potion that had a delayed reaction and made you very ill. You were sent back home to recuperate with your family over the weekend. Professor Snape was a close friend of your father's, so he went with you, to make sure you arrived safely and to pay his respects." He grinned. "Your mother is known to have quite a temper, or at least she did when we were all students together. And old Mathias is slow to anger, but implacable once his wrath is aroused. I think Professor Snape would be anxious to show your family how concerned he is about you, and apologize for his part in your illness; it is not wise to make an enemy of a wizard as powerful as your great-uncle." Dylan managed a small smile. "Now go back to sleep, and get some rest. We'll talk more in the morning." 

Lupin drew the covers up to Dylan's chin, tucking him in as if he were a small boy once again, and kissed him lightly on the forehead, as his mother often had, as he supposed his father would have done, if he had lived. It was odd, to have his two favorite teachers fussing over him and behaving as if they were his parents, but Dylan found that he didn't mind; in fact, he rather liked it... He drifted back to sleep with a smile on his face.

*** 

Dylan woke to the sound of a low groan. He opened his eyes to see Professor Snape rising from the chair that sat beside the bed, rubbing his neck and back. The blanket that Lupin had draped over him had fallen to the floor.

"Professor?" Dylan asked. "Have you been here all night?"

Snape blinked, startled, and turned to look at Dylan. "Ah, you're awake, Rosier." Then he flushed a little and said gruffly, "I was just going to keep an eye on you for a little while, but I must've fallen asleep..." Just then, someone yawned, and it wasn't Snape or Dylan. They stared at each other for a moment, then Snape looked down at the floor and said, "Oh, for pity's sake!"

Dylan sat up, crawled to the foot of the bed, and peered down. Professor Lupin lay curled up on the floor in a tangle of blankets and pillow. Snape scowled down at Lupin, prodding him with his foot, and said, "Must you act like a wolf even when the moon isn't full?"

Lupin yawned and stretched, kicking away the blankets, then sat up and said, "Good morning, Severus."

"What are you doing on the floor, Lupin?" Snape asked, glaring at Lupin as if he were an errant student he had caught prowling around the dungeon after-hours.

"I just wanted to keep an eye on Dylan," Lupin replied, smiling sleepily at him. "And you."

"I don't need a werewolf to 'keep an eye' on me!" Snape snarled, his eyes flickering briefly towards Dylan.

"Good morning, Dylan," Lupin said cheerfully as he got to his feet. "How are you feeling?"

"Um...much better, Professor, thank you," Dylan replied, looking at his two teachers nervously. He wondered if he'd dreamed up last night's little incident...

"You can stop scowling at me, Severus," Lupin said, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "He already knows."

"Knows what?" Snape asked, looking a little frantic.

"I thought he was asleep," Lupin said apologetically, although his eyes were still sparkling. "I came in during the night to cover you with that blanket, and he saw me do this." Lupin reached up, pulled Snape's face down, and kissed him on the forehead.

"LUPIN!" Snape howled, his face turning red.

_Guess I wasn't dreaming..._ Dylan thought.

"I thought he was asleep," Lupin repeated. 

"I'm not sure I believe that, you little exhibitionist," Snape growled. "Why don't you just kiss me at the head table and get it over with?!"

"Don't tempt me, Severus," Lupin said, grinning wickedly as he eyed Snape in a decidedly non-platonic way. 

Snape hastily backed away from the werewolf. "Show a little restraint, Lupin, at least in front of the boy!"

Dylan watched his two teachers, feeling very bemused. Well, he had wished earlier that Snape didn't hate Lupin so much--wasn't there an old saying that went, "Be careful what you wish for; you just might get it"?

"Oh, all right," Lupin sighed. "I suppose we wouldn't want to give Dylan a relapse."

Snape turned his glare on Dylan. "And you are not to say a word to anyone--"

"Stop growling at the boy, Severus," Lupin chided. "It's not his fault."

Dylan said earnestly, "Don't worry, Professor, I won't say anything! I know how dangerous it would be if the Dark Lord found out."

Lupin smiled approvingly. "He's a very clever boy, Severus, just as you said."

Snape just grunted irritably. "How are we explaining his absence at school?"

"The Headmaster has taken care of that," Lupin replied, then grinned. "Very convenient that you made your fifth-years test their own potions yesterday, Severus. We're blaming it on a subtle error in Dylan's potion that made him sick enough to go home for the weekend."

"That will still make people suspicious," Snape grumbled. "Dylan is my best student; he doesn't make mistakes."

Dylan flushed with pleasure at that unexpected compliment, and Lupin smiled at him. "Anyone can make a mistake. Besides, it was the best we could come up with on the spur of the moment."

Snape sighed. "It can't be helped, I suppose." Then, looking guilty, he sat down on the bed next to Dylan. "I wouldn't have brought you to the meeting last night," he said quietly, "if I had known what would happen."

"But then you'd have been in danger for defying the Dark Lord," Dylan objected. "I'm all right, really I am!"

"Are you really?" Snape asked, looking concerned. "How do you feel? Answer me honestly."

"I'm fine, really," Dylan insisted. He looked down at his hands and arms; the thorn-inflicted wounds had healed without a trace. "I don't need to stay here; I can go back to school." But then he tried to stand, and found that his legs felt a little wobbly beneath him.

"Back to bed, Mr. Rosier," Snape said firmly, pushing Dylan back down onto the bed.

"I'm okay," Dylan said, but didn't fight him. "I just feel a little weak."

"Not surprising," Snape said grimly, "considering the amount of blood you lost. The spell healed the outward damage, but you still need to replenish your strength naturally. That means food and rest, Rosier."

As if on cue, the door opened slightly and the round little man Dylan had seen the night before left a huge tray laden with enough food for three people just inside the door, then vanished. The tray looked way too heavy for such a small creature to carry, but obviously it wasn't human.

"That wasn't a house-elf, was it?" Dylan asked, frowning. 

"No, it's a hob," Lupin said cheerfully, picking up the tray and setting it down on a nearby desk. He poured a cup of tea and added cream and sugar without being asked, then handed Dylan the cup and a plate heaped with eggs and bacon and toast.

"A hob?"

"A hob," Lupin confirmed. "Eat your breakfast, Dylan. You too, Severus."

Snape muttered something under his breath about nagging werewolves, but got a plate for himself, then came back to sit beside Dylan's bed as he ate. Lupin pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed, and Dylan had the somewhat dubious privilege of having his two teachers watch over him sternly to make sure he finished his breakfast. However, after the first bite, he needed no encouragement; he found he was starving. Besides, he wanted to wash away the coppery taste of blood that was still lingering in his mouth. 

"Hobs don't usually serve wizards," Dylan said between mouthfuls.

"Well, this hob needed a home, and my friend Sirius...um...lost his house-elf, and needed some help taking care of the house," Lupin replied.

Snape scowled at Lupin. "Are we going to tell him everything, Lupin?"

"I recognized Sirius Black last night," Dylan said. "From his picture in the Daily Prophet. He helped you with the Blood Healing spell."

Snape choked on his food. "I wasn't sure if you were conscious," he said, when he recovered. "I didn't think you'd remember all that."

"Well, I do," Dylan said. "I remember Sirius Black, and Professor Lupin, and Professor Blackmore was there, too." Snape did not look pleased, so Dylan added in a small voice, "I'm sorry, sir."

"It's not your fault, Dylan," Snape sighed. "It can't be helped, I suppose. I see we will have to explain some things to you..."

"I think he can be entrusted with as much information as Harry and--" Lupin started to say.

"LUPIN!" Snape bellowed, looking very angry.

"Harry?" Dylan asked, startled. "Harry Potter?"

"I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin said, looking genuinely contrite. "I just didn't think."

"Damn it, Lupin, I've been trying to protect Dylan--"

"Please don't be angry, Professor," Dylan pleaded, seeing how upset Lupin looked, though Snape's anger had never seemed to bother him at the Hogwarts dinner table. But Snape's insults there had apparently been feigned, and his anger now was clearly real. "It's no secret that Harry Potter is working against the Dark Lord; he was he one who defeated him fifteen years ago, after all. And he's the one who revealed the Dark Lord's return. Besides, Professor Lupin must be very tired, and so must you, after watching over me all night."

Snape's anger faded, and he smiled wryly at Lupin. "What magic have you worked, to win over my Slytherins?" he asked.

"You're a good boy, Dylan," Lupin said, ruffling Dylan's hair fondly. "But Severus was right to be angry with me. I was careless, even considering lack of sleep and all the excitement that went on last night. We had agreed to conceal certain things from you, for your own protection."

"I can keep a secret!" Dylan insisted, turning to Snape. "You've been inside my head; can't you tell by now that you can trust me?"

"It's not a matter of trust, Rosier," Snape said sternly. "The less you know, the less you can reveal, in case the Dark Lord becomes suspicious and tries to break into your mind."

"But isn't that what the Occlumency lessons are for?"

"You can pass a cursory examination, Rosier, but I'm not sure you can stand up to a full-scale attack by the Dark Lord should he become determined to actively break into your mind. A great many lives would be in danger if he should learn the truth, not the least of which being yours and mine..."

"I would never betray you, Professor!" Dylan cried out, a slightly hysterical edge to his voice. "I would die before I'd betray you, I swear it!"

Lupin and Snape exchanged alarmed looks. "That's enough, Rosier," Snape said sharply.

"I would," insisted Dylan. "I'd cast a Death Strike spell before I'd betray you, I swear--"

"ENOUGH!" roared Snape, but he looked more frightened than angry.

"You're scaring the boy, Severus," Lupin said, but he also looked frightened, as well as guilty.

"No more talk about death, Rosier," Snape said firmly, but in a gentler voice. "It's my job to protect you, not the other way around."

"But--"

"Hush," Snape said. "I had meant to shield you from all this, but what's done is done. It's more my fault than Lupin's for bringing you here, even though it seemed like the best choice at the time. And he's right, you do have the right to know what's going on." Snape smiled a little, although he still looked worried. "Besides, you're too clever for your own good, Rosier, and I'm sure you'd have figured it out on your own eventually."

"But I--"

"We'll take the proper precautions, Rosier," Snape continued. "I have concealed my true loyalties for over fifteen years, so believe me when I say that I know what I'm doing. I'll put more blocks around your memories if necessary." The expression on his face was very concerned and un-Snape-like. "I don't want you dying for my sake, Dylan," he whispered. "I have enough blood on my hands as it is."

"Professor--"

"Shh," said Snape, picking up Dylan's empty plate and setting it aside. "Lie back and get some rest." Dylan saw Snape take out his wand, and with his free hand, he traced a rune on Dylan's forehead with his finger. "Sleep," Snape said, and Dylan felt the force of magic behind that word. He opened his mouth to protest, but it turned into a yawn. He felt Snape touch his forehead again, but in a gesture of almost paternal affection rather than to cast a spell. He gently smoothed back the hair from Dylan's face, then let his hand rest briefly on Dylan's cheek. "It will be all right, Dylan. I'll protect you. Now sleep."

So Dylan closed his eyes and obeyed.

*** 

Lupin picked up the tray and he and Snape quietly left the room. Snape, looking weary and haunted, said, "How the hell does he know about the Death Strike spell?"

"I'm afraid I put the idea into his head," Lupin admitted, his blue eyes filled with guilt. "When we were talking about his father during detention, I didn't realize that he hadn't been told the full story behind Evan's death, and I sort of let it slip..."

"Damn it, Lupin," Snape said, but there was no real heat behind his words.

Lupin said remorsefully, "I'm sorry, Severus, I really am. He already knew what a Death Strike spell was, though. I think he knows a great deal more about the Dark Arts than he lets on."

"I'm not surprised," Snape grumbled. "Ariane was practically an honorary Death Eater herself. Besides, most Slytherins have a habit of learning things they're not supposed to." He sighed. "It's my fault the Death Eaters got to him, anyway; if I'd kept a closer eye on him to begin with, Lucius Malfoy wouldn't have--"

"As you said, Severus," Lupin interrupted, "what's done is done. There's plenty of blame to go around. Evan, for joining the Death Eaters in the first place. Ariane, for keeping Lucius Malfoy's visit to her a secret from her uncle. And most of all, Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort for using a child as a pawn to further their own ambitions."

Snape winced at the mention of the Dark Lord's name and fell silent. He followed Lupin to the kitchen, where they left the tray and dirty dishes in the sink. Sirius was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast; there was a bandage around his right wrist.

"How's the boy?" Sirius asked.

"Like you care," Snape muttered. 

Lupin shot him a dirty look, then answered Sirius, "Physically, he's fine. Emotionally, well...he's been through a lot. He's sleeping right now. How are you feeling, Sirius?"

"Fine, considering that your friend drained a bucketload of blood out of me last night." Snape started to open his mouth, and Sirius said, "Take it easy, Snape, I was just joking. I was a little woozy last night, Moony, but I'm fine now."

Lupin smiled. "Thank you, Sirius, for helping Dylan last night."

Sirius looked uncomfortable. "Uh, no problem."

Lupin gave Snape an expectant look; Snape scowled. "If you're waiting for me to thank Black, you'll be waiting for a very long time, Lupin."

Lupin heaved a sigh, in that long-suffering way of his. "He did help heal Dylan--"  "He didn't do it for Dylan's sake," Snape snapped. "And I didn't ask him to do it."

"Severus--"

"Never mind, Remy," Sirius said. "God forbid Snape should be polite to me; the world might come to an end."

"Look who's talking," Snape sneered. "It's not like you ever thanked me for saving your worthless life."

"Well, I didn't ask you to save me--"

"Enough!" Lupin shouted, throwing his arms up in the air, and the other two men jumped. "If you two want to fight, go right ahead! I'm too tired to play referee right now; I'm going back to bed." He turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving his friend and his lover staring after him with their mouths hanging open.

Sirius sat there toying with his breakfast, looking uneasy and a little guilty. Snape stood there for a moment, then started to leave, but Sirius called out, "Snape, wait!"

Snape turned and scowled at him. "What is it?" he snapped. Sirius stood, but hesitated, shuffling his feet awkwardly, looking like a student about to confess some misdeed. "I haven't got all day, Black!"

"You were right," Sirius mumbled.

"What?" Snape asked, sounding irritated and confused.

"I said you were right," Sirius said in a louder voice, sounding rather irritated himself. "I never thanked you for saving my life. So..." He took a deep breath and swallowed hard, as if working the courage to perform a particularly dangerous and loathsome task. "Thank you for saving my life."

Snape's mouth dropped open again as Sirius's face turned red. After gaping at him dumbly for a minute or two, Snape recovered and snarled, "You can save your thanks, Black; I didn't do it for you, I did it for Lupin! If Remus weren't so softhearted that your death would cause him undue distress, believe me, I would have let you die!" He took a deep breath himself, then regained control over his emotions, and said in a cold, haughty voice, "So rest assured, Black, that I need no thanks from you. Now, if that will be all..."

"Wait!" 

"Now what?!"

Sirius still looked as if he had a very unpleasant duty to perform. "I suppose I might as well get it over with all at once," he mumbled. 

"Did you have something you wanted to say to me, or are you just going mutter to yourself all morning? I swear, Black, sometimes I think the Dementors did permanent damage to your brain--"

"You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?" Sirius muttered resentfully.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Black, but I see no reason why I should make anything easy for--"

"Will you shut up for just one minute, Snape?!" Sirius shouted.

Snape glowered at Sirius, but fell silent, crossed his arms, and waited expectantly.

Sirius took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then said, "Look, I'm trying to apologize."

"For what?" Snape asked, still angry, but genuinely confused.

Sirius flushed and stared down at his feet. "For sending you to the Shrieking Shack that night. For trying to break up you and Remy." Snape stared at him, rendered speechless with shock. "I already apologized to Moony," Sirius continued, glancing up at Snape, "but he said I owed you an apology as well, and he was right. So...I apologize. I had no right to do that, to try and come between you, and I almost got both of you killed. I'm sorry."

Snape turned white, then red, and he looked absolutely furious. "'I'm sorry'?" he echoed incredulously. "For 'trying' to break us up? You didn't just try, Black, you succeeded! Do you think that an 'I'm sorry' makes up for all the years we spent apart?! Do you think it makes up for twenty years of bitterness and misery and loneliness--" Both his voice and his body were shaking, and he abruptly stopped his tirade, realizing that he was losing control and exposing himself to Black, the very last person, apart from Voldemort, that he wanted to show his weaknesses to. 

He panted heavily, trying to regain control of himself, reciting, _Control, control, control,_ in his head over and over again, like a mantra. "You have no idea," Snape finally hissed, "what you put us through. I don't expect you to give a damn about me, but you have no idea how much Remus suffered all those years. What you did to him, your supposed best friend, is unforgivable." Snape laughed mirthlessly. "You're just as bad as your godson, Black, but at least he has the excuse of being too young to know any better. I'll tell you what I told him: 'I'm sorry' doesn't magically make everything all right. Two simple words don't erase twenty years' worth of pain." 

Snape walked up to Sirius and leaned in close until their faces were barely more than an inch apart, his black eyes narrowed and filled with such hatred that Sirius found himself taking a step back. "I will never, ever forgive you, Black," Snape breathed, then abruptly turned and walked out of the room, his black robes swirling around him.

*** 

Lupin had fallen into bed fully clothed, too tired to take off anything but his shoes. He had not gotten much sleep the night before, but he was rather irritated at Severus and Sirius for continuing with their petty quarrels at a time like this, and that made it hard to sleep. Just as he had begun to doze off, he felt someone climb into the bed with him.

"Sev?" he asked sleepily. He felt Severus's arms wrap around him, and he started to snuggle against his lover, but it seemed that Severus wanted to do more than cuddle, because his hands began caressing Lupin's body and fumbling with his robes. "Severus?" Lupin asked, startled. In response, Severus kissed him hard, his tongue sliding between Lupin's lips. Lupin found himself returning the kiss, then gasped with pleasure--no longer feeling sleepy--as Severus's hands pushed aside his clothing and encountered bare skin. "Severus!" Lupin giggled nervously. "What's gotten into you? Dylan's right in the next room!"

"The spell will keep him asleep for at least a few hours," Snape said in a husky voice. "I need you, Remy, please."

Lupin looked into his lover's black eyes, and saw something there he had not seen since the first time he and Severus had kissed after Lupin had returned to Hogwarts three years ago, when Severus could no longer deny his desire, but had not yet forgiven Lupin: a mixture of anger, need, and desperation. "What's wrong, Severus?" he asked anxiously.

Snape shook his head impatiently. "Later. I'll explain later. Right now I need you. Please." Then he looked a bit shamefaced. "Sorry. I didn't mean to just jump on you while you're sleeping, but...I need you." He kissed Lupin again, hungrily.

"It's all right, Sev," Lupin said gently, running his hands through Severus's hair. Then, hiding his concern, he grinned and said, "I don't mind putting off sleep for this." Despite Severus's assurances about Dylan remaining asleep, Lupin reached for his wand and cast a silence spell, just in case. Then he surrendered himself to his lover's embrace.

In the midst of their lovemaking, Snape panted, "Say you love me, Remus." It was half-plea, half-command.

"I love you, Sev," Lupin gasped obligingly, "I love you so much!"

"More than anyone."

"More than anyone," Lupin echoed, knowing he should be worried by the way this conversation was going--by the fact that they were having a conversation at all!--but the wolf was too aroused and caught up in the moment to care right now.

"More than Black!" Snape insisted, and there was an intense look in his black eyes that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with hatred and jealousy.

"Severus," Lupin said, alarm beginning to break through the haze of desire.

"Say it!" Snape shouted, now looking frantic and close to hysteria.

"I love you, Severus, more than anyone, more than Sirius," Lupin said helplessly, not knowing what else to do. Severus seemed satisfied with that and resumed his lovemaking with renewed fervor. The part of Lupin that was the wolf howled with pleasure, while the part that was the man was sick with worry. But he could not control his body's response, and besides, Severus needed this, needed him, so there was nothing to do but give in and ride out this wave of passion to the end...

Afterwards, they lay next to each other in silence, as Lupin tried to catch his breath and compose his thoughts. "Severus," he said tentatively, reaching out to touch his lover's arm, still not knowing exactly what he was going to say. 

Snape turned to face him and his black eyes were sane again, and he looked very ashamed of himself. "Oh God, Remus, I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I can't believe I did that." 

"I love you, Severus," Lupin said sadly. "I don't know what else I can do to convince you of that. I have tried to put you first, Severus, I swear I have..."

"I know, Remus," Snape interrupted. "And I should never have forced you to make that promise," he added remorsefully, referring to the plea he had made to Lupin the day he had saved Black's life, to be first in Lupin's heart, above Black and Potter. His mouth twisted in something that tried, and failed, to be a smile. "I know it's not in your nature to choose between the people you love, and I keep trying to force you to choose between Black and me. You're generous and compassionate, and that's why I love you, yet I keep trying to make you as small-minded and petty as I am." He laughed bitterly. "The irony of it is, if you really were like me, I would never have fallen in love with you."

Lupin gently stroked Severus's cheek. "I had already made the choice," he said softly, "before you asked me to say the words." Severus looked confused. "I tried to stop you from saving Sirius," Lupin reminded him, although the memory pained him, and he knew it had hurt Sirius when he had found out. "Sirius is my dearest friend, but I just couldn't bear to lose you again. My heart made the choice for me without my even thinking about it. I chose you." 

"Remus," Snape whispered, his eyes filled with guilt, tenderness, and awe. He pulled Lupin close and held him tightly. Lupin felt a tremor run through his lover's body. "I'm sorry, Remus. I'm sorry that I keep forcing you to prove your love for me. I know you love me, I really do, I just..." Snape's voice trailed off.

"It's all right, Severus," Lupin said gently. "But I thought...I felt like we had grown closer together over the summer." And the bond between them had grown stronger, with Severus seeming much more content and less insecure, up until now. "What happened to upset you so much? Did you have a fight with Sirius?" 

Snape scowled, looking more like his cranky old self. "Black apologized to me," he growled.

"What?" Lupin said, not sure he had heard correctly.

"Black apologized to me," Snape repeated in a louder voice. "For the Shrieking Shack."

"He did?" Lupin was shocked, but he felt proud of his friend for finally having the courage to admit he was wrong, and pleased that Sirius was finally showing some maturity. Then he frowned; why should that bother Severus so much? Lupin might be an idealist, but he wasn't stupid; he didn't really expect his lover to suddenly become friends with Sirius, he didn't even expect Severus to actually accept the apology, but he wouldn't have expected this strong of a reaction. "But...that's good, isn't it? I mean, I don't really expect you to forgive him, but--"

"An apology doesn't make up for what he did!" Snape snapped. "It doesn't make up for all those years--" His voice suddenly choked up and he couldn't continue.  "Severus," Lupin said, alarmed.

"It hurt so much," Snape said in a hoarse voice. "All those years without you, missing you, wanting you...hating you. Hating myself." Unshed tears glittered in his eyes. 

"Severus," Lupin whispered.

"I can never forgive Black for that," Snape said, the anger creeping back into his eyes. "I can never forgive him for all the years we spent apart. And for him to waltz in and think he can make everything all right with an 'I'm sorry'--"

"I don't think that's what he--"

"If you want to forgive him, that's your business, Lupin," Snape continued. "It probably makes you a better person than me. But I will never forgive him, not even for your sake!"

"Sirius apologized to me also," Lupin said, "before we left for Hogwarts. He knows that saying 'I'm sorry' doesn't make up for what he did, but he wanted to acknowledge the harm he did to us both."  "I don't care!" Snape shouted. "Tell him to keep his apologies to himself; I don't want them!"

"You don't have to forgive him, Severus," Lupin said gently. "But are you sure that you aren't really mad at someone else?"

Snape flushed. "At myself, you mean, for being too stubborn to forgive you--"

"No," Lupin said softly. "At me."

Snape looked up, startled. "I don't blame you. Well, not anymore--"

"But I blame myself," Lupin said quietly, "for not trying harder. For letting you go. For giving up on you--twice. Once after the Shrieking Shack, and once after you sent my letter back to me during the trials."

"But that's not your fault," Snape protested. "I'm the one who kept pushing you away--"

"But I gave up too easily," Lupin replied gravely. "I should have kept trying. If necessary--" Lupin smiled a little. "--I should have planted myself on your doorstep and refused to leave."  "It might have ruined my cover," Snape pointed out, beginning to smile himself, "to have a lovesick werewolf camping outside my door."

"And it was particularly stupid of me to send you a letter," Lupin added. "I should have come in person, so that you couldn't dismiss me so easily, but I was too much of a coward. I was afraid to see the hatred in your eyes."

"I'm sorry, Remus," Snape said, then looked very uncomfortable. "I suppose it's a bit hypocritical of me," he admitted reluctantly, "to not forgive Black, when I have treated you just as badly, if not worse, and yet you always forgive me."

"Well, that's because I love you," Lupin said, kissing him lightly on the lips. "And we have all made mistakes in the past, myself included. You don't have to forgive Sirius for my sake; no one can force you to change the way you feel. It will come with time, if it comes at all, and that's not what concerns me, anyway. I just don't like to see those old feelings eating away at you like this."

"I love you, Remus," Snape said, gently brushing Lupin's hair back from his face, then letting his fingers trail down Lupin's cheek and across his lips. "Though I'm not sure why you put up with me sometimes."

"You are brave and honorable and loyal," Lupin said solemnly, then suddenly grinned mischievously. "Plus there is the little fact that you're really great in bed." Severus burst out laughing, and a relieved Lupin laughed along with him. "You did say that spell should keep Dylan asleep for a few hours, didn't you...?" Lupin said in a low voice, trying to imitate that throaty, sexy purr of Severus's; he didn't quite succeed, but it had the intended effect, which was all that mattered.

"Yes, indeed," Snape replied, pulling Lupin closer. "Do you know what 'little fact' I like about you?" he purred.

_Nothing like the real thing,_ Lupin thought to himself with a grin as that sound sent little shivers up and down his spine. "No, what?" he asked aloud.

"The fact that you're insatiable," Snape purred into Lupin's ear, and Lupin shivered again. Snape laughed wickedly. "One of the advantages of having a werewolf for a lover!"

Lupin growled playfully, baring his teeth. "So show the wolf that you're not just all talk, Professor Snape!"

"You know, Lupin," Snape said with a sly grin, "it kind of turns me on to hear you call me 'Professor' in bed."

"Professor Snape," Lupin said, nipping at his neck, "the wolf requires your attention right now."

"Then I will do my duty by Hogwarts," Snape said, still grinning. "Though perhaps I should ask the Headmaster for hazard pay--"

"Now!" Lupin growled impatiently.

Snape laughed, then kissed Lupin, and they made love again, this time in joy rather than desperation.

*** 

"Ungrateful bastard," Sirius muttered as Snape stormed out of the room, but it was more reflex than anything else; he was much more shaken than angry. He had not by any stretch of the imagination expected Snape to forgive him--this was Snape they were talking about, after all!--but neither had he anticipated this reaction. He had expected Snape to sneer, perhaps, that he didn't want Sirius's apology, or maybe even a "Bugger off, Black! I only put up with you because the Headmaster ordered me to!" What he had not expected was to see such raw pain along with the hatred in Snape's black eyes. The hatred, Sirius could understand, and put up with. But it shocked and unnerved him to realize that the pain of the Shrieking Shack incident was still as fresh for Snape as it had been twenty years ago.

Suddenly Sirius recalled what the Headmaster had said to him that night: "I fear you have destroyed two lives today"--meaning Lupin's and Snape's. Sirius had felt regret for what he had done to Lupin, but up until recently, he had felt none for Snape. Snape was a Slytherin, after all, and Slytherins were all no good...weren't they? He had not believed that Snape really loved Lupin--but for the first time, he realized that there was no other logical explanation for the pair's covert romance. If Snape had just wanted to get laid, there were other options available to a wealthy pureblood, even one as unpleasant and unattractive as Snape. And Snape had nothing to gain by taking Lupin as a lover, for Lupin had several strikes against him: he was a poverty-stuck male Gryffindor werewolf. 

Despite the rivalry between the Houses, Evan Rosier had gained some status in the eyes of most of his male classmates by winning the heart of the beautiful Ariane Donner, but Snape would only have lost status in Slytherin House if his affair with Lupin had been revealed. The blood-conscious Slytherins would have scorned anyone who slept with someone they considered a nonhuman and little better than a beast, no matter how handsome he was. The "he" was an issue too; plenty of wizards, both male and female, took lovers of the same sex, but it was considered to be in poor taste to flaunt such a lover in the public eye. 

The elite of the wizarding world were obsessed with status and blood purity, and that meant making marriages and having children with someone of the proper bloodline; love and sexual preference usually didn't enter into the matter. If you were lucky, your parents chose a bride or groom that you could like, or at least tolerate; if not, well, once a suitable heir or two had been produced, no one would object if you turned your attentions elsewhere, so long as you were discreet about it. But fail to do your duty, by taking openly taking an inappropriate lover, by refusing to produce an heir--or worse, by producing a half-Muggle heir, like Tonks's mother--and you would find yourself an outcast in society. Not that Sirius cared about such things, but Snape had seemed to, at least when they were students. 

So...Snape loved Lupin; Sirius could no longer deny it. He had seen the pain in Snape's eyes, seen him visibly tremble with emotion, Snape who was always so cold and in control of himself. And his words were significant, too; he had not said, "'I'm sorry' doesn't make up for your trying to kill me," he had said, "Do you think that an 'I'm sorry' makes up for all the years we spent apart?! Do you think it makes up for twenty years of bitterness and misery and loneliness?" 

_Remus was right,_ Sirius thought to himself in consternation. Lupin had once told him, "Do you know why Severus really hates you, Sirius? It's not because you almost got him killed; or at least, that's only a small part of it. He hates you because you took me away from him, because he thought I chose you over him." And finally, Sirius believed him. He still did not like Snape, and probably never would, but finally, Sirius realized that he had hurt Snape as badly as he had hurt Remus. 

That realization made Sirius feel small and petty. Although he had never been in love with someone the way Snape and Lupin were apparently in love with each other, he had an inkling of what Snape must have gone through. "Twenty years of bitterness and misery and loneliness": Sirius had spent twelve bitter, lonely years in Azkaban, believing that he had been betrayed by his best friend--which of course he had. He had just been mistaken about which friend had betrayed him. He felt ashamed that he had put another human being--even Snape--through such misery. He would have offered Snape another apology, if he thought Snape would accept it, but that would probably just make things worse. 

He remembered Branwen telling him once that some things could not be mended by mere words; now he realized how right she was. There would be no absolution for Sirius; he would have to live with what he had done, and its consequences. One of those consequences being that he had helped set Snape on the road to becoming a Death Eater--as Branwen had once told him, though he had refused to listen at the time--by taking away the one person who might have been able to dissuade him from joining. And another consequence being that he had caused great pain to one of his dearest friends. Snape was right about that too, damn him; what he had done to Remus was unforgivable, even though Moony had, of course, forgiven him.

Sirius sighed wearily. He could not undo the past; all he could do was to try and atone for his mistakes. Helping to heal Dylan Rosier was a good start, but Sirius suspected that it would take much more than a few liters of blood to even begin to make up for all the harm he had caused...

He felt a small, leathery hand touch his, and looked around with a start. The kitchen was still empty, but there was a steaming cup of tea sitting on the table, along with with a currant-studded tea cake. Sirius smiled to himself, his gloomy mood retreating just a little. Tea and sweets, that was Hob's answer to everything--well, along with Sirius finding a wife and making some babies for the hob to look after. Sirius sat down at the table and took a sip of tea; it didn't solve any of his problems, but it did make him feel a little better.

*** 

Several hours later, Sirius stood outside Snape's bedroom door, feeling a little uncomfortable. Snape had departed to give the Headmaster a detailed report, and to talk to Dylan's mother and "face the music" (as he put it). Facing the family of the boy he had endangered was obviously the last thing Snape wanted to do, but still, he did it. Sirius grudgingly respected him for it, although when he had pointed out that Branwen and the Headmaster had already contacted the Donners and assured them that Dylan was safe, Snape had replied in his usual disdainful, sarcastic voice, "I have a certain duty as Head of Slytherin to see to my students' safety, Black, and I gave Ariane my word that I would look after Dylan personally. But I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand concepts such as 'responsibility' and 'honor'."

 _Snarky bastard,_ Sirius thought to himself. Although it was the typical sort of insult Snape automatically threw his way, and which Sirius usually brushed off, this time it stung, because he was aware that he had not behaved very responsibly since he had gotten out of Azkaban. Well, to be truthful, he had never been very responsible, ever. While Snape, on the other hand, though he complained loudly and bitterly about his unpleasant duties (the most unpleasant being teaching Harry and having to put up with Sirius, apparently), still carried out those duties: teaching, spying, reporting to the Order. He was a bit chagrined to realize that Snape was the one behaving like a responsible grown-up while Sirius was an unemployed former fugitive who had spent most of the past year doing little more than keeping house.

Sirius sighed and shook his head, trying to shake those unpleasant thoughts out of his mind, and knocked on the door. Lupin had sent him to fetch Dylan down for supper, not to stand around ruminating about Snape.

"Come in," a voice called.

Sirius opened the door and walked in. Dylan was up and dressed in his school uniform; Hob must have mended and cleaned it for him. The boy looked surprised; he had probably been expecting Snape or Lupin. "Oh, hello, Mr. Black."

Sirius smiled. "When I hear that name, I think people are talking about my father, not me. Just call me Sirius."

The boy gave him a tentative smile. "I should thank you for helping Professor Snape to heal me, sir. I know it's a dangerous spell--"

Was this polite child really the son of Evan Rosier, whose charm was matched only by his insolence, who had rarely gone for more than a week or two at a time without getting into trouble for some prank? Sirius couldn't help himself, he laughed out loud. The boy looked hurt and a little wary, and Sirius hastily explained, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you. It's just funny to hear someone calling me 'sir,' especially Evan Rosier's son."

"You knew my father?" Dylan asked eagerly, his face lighting up.

"Um...yeah, sort of," Sirius replied awkwardly, cursing himself for mentioning Evan's name. What the hell was he supposed to say to the boy? He knew from Lupin that Dylan loved the idealized version of the father he had never known, much as Harry did James. Sirius didn't have many pleasant and heartwarming stories to tell about Evan Rosier, who had, after all, been a Death Eater. In fact, as a young Auror, he had seen some of the bodies of the Muggle and Muggle-born victims that Evan and his comrades had murdered, but that was not something he wanted to say to the eager, wide-eyed, vulnerable-looking boy standing in front of him. "I mean, we were yearmates, but I didn't know him very well," Sirius temporized, "since we were in different Houses and all."

Dylan's smile vanished, and was replaced by a polite but guarded expression. No wonder Snape liked the boy; it seemed that he was even better at turning his emotions on and off than the Potions Master. "That's right; Professor Lupin said you were a friend of his, so you must have been in Gryffindor House."

"Yes, I was," Sirius replied, and for the first time he wondered if Branwen was right about the division of Houses being a bad thing, if Dylan automatically assumed that a Gryffindor could only be friends with another Gryffindor. It was an assumption that Sirius would never have questioned himself until recently. Part of Sirius wished he could go back to his blissful certainty in his beliefs of right and wrong, of black and white with no shades of gray, but Lupin and Branwen had awoken too many troubling questions in his mind for him to set his conscience at ease again.

"I guess you didn't like him very much, then," Dylan said. "Professor Lupin said his friends didn't get along with the Slytherins."

"Um, yeah," Sirius mumbled, wondering why he felt so ashamed about that now; it had never bothered him before. _It's all Moony's and Branwen's fault,_ he grumbled to himself. Aloud he said, "It's nothing personal; that's just the way things were. Gryffindor and Slytherin have always been rivals."

"The Sorting Hat said that Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor were once close friends," Dylan said. 

"Don't you hate the Gryffindors?" Sirius asked curiously; he had never met a Slytherin who wasn't hostile towards Gryffindor.

Dylan shrugged. "Not really. I can't be friends with them, because...ah...some of my housemates would object, but I don't hate them. Some of them are mean to me, but others--" He grinned. "--mostly the girls, have been nice to me."

"You are your father's son," Sirius said dryly, and Dylan laughed.

"Funny, how people keep telling me that," he said, with a charming, rakish grin, and at that moment, the boy did indeed look very much like his father. "Well, my mother was a Ravenclaw, after all," Dylan continued, "so I suppose the thought of associating with other Houses doesn't bother me the way it would most of my classmates." 

"To be honest, I was a bit jealous of Evan," Sirius found himself admitting. He was surprised to find that he actually liked the boy--he would have never have dreamed that he would ever say that about a Slytherin, much less the son of a Death Eater.

"Really? Why?"

"Well," Sirius said sheepishly, "my friend James and I were pranksters, too, and we felt we had a reputation to uphold. And we didn't like being upstaged by your dad and his friend Wilkes. I remember--well, it wasn't exactly a prank, but did anyone ever tell you about the time Evan asked Professor Blackmore for a dance at the Yule Ball?"

"Yes," Dylan said, grinning widely. "Now that I've met her, I can't imagine anyone having the courage to do that!"

"Nor I," Sirius agreed. "But Evan did, and I was jealous that I hadn't thought of it first."

"Why, did you like her?" Dylan asked. "I mean, she's very beautiful, but I find her a little scary--"

"Like her?" Sirius said, puzzled for a moment before he figured out what Dylan was asking. "Oh no!" he said, blushing a little. "I never thought of her that way! That would be like having a crush on a dragon or a cobra--something beautiful but deadly! No, what I meant was that the whole school was in awe of your father for weeks afterwards. No one could believe that he had the courage or the sheer audacity to do that--and no one could believe that she didn't kill him or turn him into a toad!" 

Dylan laughed. "So what were some of the pranks you pulled on Slytherin, and vice versa?"

"Well," Sirius said, pausing to think, "there was the time they cast an illusion on the Gryffindor banner hanging in the Great Hall. I'm still not sure how they did it, but they made it look as though the lion's mane and fur had been shaved off." He had been furious at the time, to see the pink, denuded Gryffindor lion, but now he had to admit it had been quite an impressive prank. "So, of course, Gryffindor had to even the score, which we did by turning the Slytherins' robes pink..."

*** 

Snape returned to the Grimmauld Place house feeling weary and relieved to be back. Goewin had been positively furious with him; old Math had practically had to restrain his wife to keep her from attacking Snape. From her reaction, a stranger might have thought that she was the boy's mother, as fiercely protective as a mother bear was of her cubs. Ariane had been distraught, of course, but at the same time a little proud that the Rosier house had acknowledged Dylan as its true heir. She had once more entreated Snape to watch over her son, and before he left, quietly whispered into his ear, "I of all people understand the dangerous position you are in, Severus, caught between the Death Eaters and your duties to Dumbledore and the Order. But Dylan is my son, and if you let him die, I will kill you."

"You will not need to," Snape had replied in a level voice. "Because if that happens, I will already be dead." She had held his gaze for a moment, her silvery-gray eyes--so much like Dylan's--boring into his, then she had nodded and let him leave.

Snape went up to his room to check on Dylan, and heard voices, then Dylan's laughter. He smiled to himself, thinking that Lupin must be talking to the boy. So he turned the doorknob and entered without knocking, and got a very unpleasant surprise: Dylan laughing and chatting casually with none other than Sirius Black. The sight filled Snape with an irrational, overpowering sense of jealousy. _Damn you, Black!_ he thought to himself. _Are you determined to steal from me everyone I love?_ He was so caught up in his fury that he didn't even notice that he had finally acknowledged to himself that he loved Dylan.

Dylan started to say, "Hello, Professor Snape--" but Snape cut him off, snarling, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Black?! Get away from the boy!"

Black stared at him in shock. "Take it easy, Snape! Remus sent me to tell Dylan that dinner was ready, and we just got to talking--"

Snape grabbed Black by the front of his robes and growled, "You expect me to believe that you were just having a pleasant chat with the son of a Slytherin Death Eater--?"

"Professor," Dylan said in alarm, "it's all right, we really were just talking--"

"You stay out of this, Rosier!" Snape roared, then turned back to Black. "You expect me to believe that you've had a sudden change of heart? I remember how much you hated Evan, hated all Slytherins in general! Why are you so anxious to befriend his son? I haven't forgotten how you tried to feed me to a werewolf, Black, and I swear if you so much as harm a hair on the boy's head, I will make you wish that Bellatrix really had killed you--"

"Oh my God!" Dylan exclaimed, and both Snape and Sirius turned to look at him. "I completely forgot, Professor Lupin told me that Sirius Black was one of the Aurors who confronted my father--" He was staring at Black with an expression of mingled surprise, suspicion, and hurt in his eyes. That last infuriated Snape; how had he come to trust Black so quickly that his betrayal would cause him pain?

"Look, it's true that I didn't like Evan, and that we were on opposite sides of the war," protested Black, "but for Merlin's sake, Snape, do you really think I would stoop to hurting a child?"

"You tried to get me killed when I was Dylan's age," Snape snarled.

"I wasn't trying to get you killed!" Black snapped, sounding frustrated. 

"Well, what did you think was going to happen when I walked in on a werewolf during the full moon, with no Wolfsbane Potion yet invented?!"

"I wasn't thinking!" Black shouted. "I was young and stupid and thoughtless, I admit it, okay?! It was despicable of me to try and come between you and Remus, but I wasn't trying to kill you!"

"Fat lot of good that would have done if Potter hadn't had a change of heart and gotten me out of there in time!"

"I was only a kid then, myself, Snape! Do you think that you're the only one's who changed in the past twenty years? Don't you think that maybe I've grown up a little since then?"

"I certainly haven't seen any sign of it," Snape sneered.

"Do you think that you're the only one who deserves forgiveness?" Black sneered back. "At least I didn't join the Death Eaters!"

"Why you little--"

A loud crash and the sound of breaking glass caused the two men to break off their argument. Snape let go of Black's robes and turned around to see what had happened; a couple of potion bottles had fallen from a shelf down to the floor. Snape frowned and reached for his wand; those bottles should not have fallen on their own. "Do you have doxies in the house again, Black?"

"It was the hob," Dylan said hesitantly. "I saw him out of the corner of my eye."

Black looked embarrassed. "He was probably trying to distract us from our argument. Hobs don't like discord; they like things to be peaceful and everyone to be happy."

Snape suddenly saw how pale and frightened Dylan looked, and felt ashamed of himself as well. "Go to the kitchen, Black," he said in a curt but much less hostile voice, "and tell Lupin we're coming down." Black looked a little mulish, so he added, "Please," through gritted teeth.

Black nodded and started to leave, then stopped at the door and said to Dylan, "Look, your father and I weren't friends. Maybe we were even enemies. But I swear on my honor that I mean you no harm. Once I might have hated you just because of who your father was and what House you were sorted into, but--" He smiled wryly. "--a couple of my friends keep trying to drill it through my thick skull that I should stop being so shallow and start judging people as individuals. I'll see you at dinner." Then he left, closing the door behind him.

"I...I'm sorry, sir," Dylan said in a small voice, looking very anxious. "I didn't know I wasn't supposed to talk to him, but I should have been more careful--"

Snape felt even more ashamed of himself, if that was possible. "No, I'm the one who should apologize," he said. Dylan's mouth dropped open, and Snape almost smiled in spite of himself; well, it was no wonder the boy was in shock--the Potions Master never apologized to anyone, and certainly not his students! "I shouldn't have lost my temper," he continued. "And I was angry at Black, not you."

Dylan looked relieved, but still a little uneasy. "Would Sirius Black really try to hurt me, sir?"

Snape was silent for a long time. Would he? Black had hated all Slytherins, and he had played that nearly fatal "prank" on Snape, but would he really hurt a child, even one who was the son of a Death Eater? Or did he only want to believe that of Black because he was jealous...and what was there to be jealous of, really? It wasn't as if Dylan was his child; the boy was only his student, after all... But he cared about Dylan far more than he had ever cared about any of his students, and there was a bond between them that had been forged the night Dylan had received the Dark Mark. 

And...he had to admit it, seeing Black work his charm on someone that Snape cared about had woken an irrational fear that Black might try to steal Dylan from him as he had stolen Lupin twenty years ago. _Everyone loves Black,_ he thought sullenly. _Or at least they did, before he was framed by Pettigrew. And I have only a handful of people who care about me; can't he at least leave me that much? Or does he want to strip me of what little I have?_ Snape knew that he was being childish, and that it was foolish to be jealous just because his favorite student had been having a friendly conversation with Black, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

"I don't know," Snape finally replied. "Black and I...have a history, you might say. It's difficult for me to be objective about it." Then he added reluctantly, "But Dumbledore and Lupin trust him. Of course," he muttered, almost under his breath, "the werewolf is very softhearted..."

"Professor Lupin said that this house belongs to Sirius Black, and that you brought me here because it was a safe place," Dylan said timidly. "So I thought it was all right, I thought that meant you trusted him..."

"It's...complicated," Snape said, grimacing. To explain why he had brought Dylan here, he would have to explain that it was the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, and then he would have to explain about the Order. Dumbledore had agreed that--since he had seen so much already--they could explain the basics about the Order to Dylan, but Snape didn't want to get into it right now. "It's a very long story, Rosier. I'll explain it over dinner."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said obediently, though he still looked puzzled.

"But I suppose," Snape sighed, "that I don't really think Black would murder you in your sleep or anything like that. But he has always mistrusted Slytherins, and I don't know how long this new open-mindedness of his will last, or how sincere it is, so just watch your step around him."

"Yes, sir." Dylan hesitated, then asked, "Did he really try to kill you when you were my age?"

Snape wanted to kick himself for revealing so much to the boy. _And to think I was scolding Lupin for being careless,_ he groaned silently. "He played what he claims was a merely a prank, and sent me to Professor Lupin's hiding place in the Shrieking Shack when we were all about your age," Snape said stiffly. "The Wolfsbane Potion had not yet been invented, so the only way to keep Lupin from harming anyone was to lock him up by himself during the full moon. Lupin's crowd and mine were at odds with each other, and I was quite curious to know where Lupin disappeared to every month. So Black told me, but neglected to mention the little fact that Lupin was a werewolf."

"And he called that a 'prank'?!" Dylan exclaimed, turning pale again, and Snape felt a malicious, if petty, little stab of satisfaction, at the horror in the boy's voice, because it meant that Dylan saw Black for what he truly was. "You could have been killed! Or..." His voice trailed off.

"No, I'm not a werewolf, Mr. Rosier," Snape said dryly. "Fortunately, I...ah...managed to escape before Lupin bit me. No thanks to Black, of course."

"But you could have been killed or infected," Dylan said, shaking his head. "And Professor Lupin would probably have been punished, maybe executed, even if it wasn't his fault." 

Snape blinked in surprise, but was pleased at the boy's insight; none of the idiot Gryffindors had foreseen what would have happened to their friend if their prank had gone wrong. But then, Dylan himself had been a victim of wizardly "justice," having spent most of his young life in exile because of his father's crimes.

"Did he really not realize what could have happened, to you and Professor Lupin?" Dylan asked dubiously.

Snape was sorely tempted to let Dylan think that Black was a conniving murderer, but he obeyed his conscience (which sounded an awful lot like Lupin, damn him) and answered honestly, "Well, Black wasn't very bright, or to be more accurate, he never used the brains he had; he's always had a habit of acting without thinking. He says he just wanted to scare me, and I admit it's possible that he's stupid enough not to have realized that Lupin could have done much more than just scare me. And I know he never stopped to think about what the Ministry would have done to Lupin if he'd killed me; he was genuinely horrified when Dumbledore told him that Lupin could have been executed or sent to Azkaban."  "And Professor Lupin is still friends with him?!" 

"Yes, well, he's always been too softhearted for his own good," Snape grumbled. "And of course Black made a big show of how sorry he was that he had endangered his best friend."

"Only his friend--not you?" Dylan asked, picking up on Snape's unspoken words, perceptive boy that he was.

"I was only a Slytherin, after all," Snape said with a bitter smile, but his conscience prodded him again, and he added, "Though he did eventually apologize, about twenty years too late. Not that it matters. There are things that an apology cannot change." His smile grew even more bitter and twisted. "As you and I know," he added softly, tapping the place on his forearm where the Dark Mark was branded. Dylan nodded solemnly. 

"Well, enough of this," Snape said briskly; dwelling on those painful memories of the past was extremely unpleasant, and the boy had already learned more than he should. "Let's go down to dinner before Lupin starts worrying."

But Dylan had one more question, by the look on his face; he seemed to be going through some internal struggle over whether or not to actually ask it. Finally he blurted out, "Did Sirius Black pull that so-called prank because of you and Professor Lupin...because he didn't like the idea of his friend being with a Slytherin?"

Snape silently cursed Lupin for kissing him in front of Dylan, even if he had thought the boy was asleep, and then cursed himself for losing control and fighting with Black in front of Dylan. "Did I ever tell you that you're too clever for your own good, Rosier?"  "Sorry, sir," Dylan said contritely.

"And anyway, my personal life is none of your business."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said meekly. "But...certain things make sense now. I wondered why Professor Lupin seemed so concerned about me, why he seemed so sure that I wouldn't turn out to be a Death Eater like my father. It was because of you, wasn't it? He was being nice to me for your sake."

"Much too clever for your own good," Snape sighed, but he laid his hand on Dylan's shoulder, and the boy smiled up at him trustingly, looking touchingly eager to please, his normally guarded expression open and vulnerable. No one but Lupin had ever looked at Snape that way, and while he was deeply moved by the boy's trust, he was also humbled by it, because he wasn't sure that he was worthy of it. "Dinner," Snape repeated, and this time Dylan followed him quietly down to the kitchen.

*** 

Dinner was a rather subdued affair, with the conversation being slightly stilted and awkward. Snape and Lupin explained to Dylan about the Order of the Phoenix, just the bare minimum of details, that they were working against Voldemort and that the house was a safe haven for the group, but no more than that; they didn't tell him who any of the other members were. "The less you know, the less you can be forced to reveal," Snape said in his usual didactic tone.

Dylan nodded. He didn't seem very surprised, at least to Sirius's eyes, and had apparently already figured out that Dumbledore had organized some kind of resistance to combat the Death Eaters, although he hadn't known the name of the organization or the exact details. But then, Lupin and Snape both claimed that the boy was clever and perceptive. "I suppose my great-uncle is working for you, too? He did during the first war, and I can't imagine that he'd just sit back and do nothing now."

Snape hesitated, then replied, "Yes, Mathias is helping us, in a manner of speaking," not bothering to elaborate. Sirius knew, of course, that the old wizard remained on his estate in Wales to watch over Dylan's mother, while his wife Goewin attended the Order meetings and reported back to him, but apparently Snape felt the boy didn't need to know that.

"And Harry Potter must be involved," Dylan continued. Snape's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, and Lupin looking uncertain, followed his lead. "And...maybe some of his friends?" Dylan asked, a speculative gleam in his eyes. "Hermione said she talked to you during the summer, and I thought that was odd--"

"That will be enough, Mr. Rosier!" Snape said firmly, flushing a little, though Sirius wasn't sure why. "I told you before, there are things that you do not need to know, things that might endanger you or your friends."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said, bowing his head meekly. "I'm sorry."

Sirius stared at him in amazement. Harry always clamored to know more than the adults were willing to tell him, and would not have been put off with a "you don't need to know that". And Evan Rosier had certainly never been so obedient and compliant. Was it natural for a child to be so well-behaved? Of course, Dylan had not exactly had what you would call a normal childhood...

The subject of the Order was dropped, and Lupin and Snape made small talk about the school. Snape informed Lupin that the Headmaster was explaining Lupin's absence at meals by saying that he was sick.

"It's a bit early for that," Lupin said, "but still believable, I suppose. The full moon's less than two weeks away, and you will have to start brewing the potion for me soon. But I've been telling my students how effective the new potion is..." 

"They'll probably just assume that I'm trying to poison you," Snape said with a wicked grin. 

Lupin laughed, and Dylan smiled, looking a little bemused. Of course, he had only just found out that his teachers weren't enemies, as most of the school believed, but he seemed happy about it. The boy obviously liked Lupin, and he seemed to like Snape as well, treating the Potions Master with a respect that was close to hero worship. _There's no accounting for taste,_ Sirius thought to himself, then conceded that the son of a Death Eater might find Snape an appropriate father figure, as incredible as that sounded.

Sirius noticed, feeling a little disappointed but not surprised, that Dylan kept giving him suspicious glances; Snape had no doubt poisoned the boy's mind against him. But Dylan was still flawlessly polite to him, though Sirius found that he preferred Snape's insults to the boy's cool, bland responses to Sirius's attempts at conversation. Of course, Sirius had always preferred hatred to indifference, even as a child; one thing he could not stand was being ignored.

Eventually, dinner concluded, with Snape telling Dylan, "Oh, and I brought some textbooks back with me from Hogwarts. Now that you seem to be feeling better, you can do a little studying while you recuperate." He laughed at the startled and slightly put-out expression on the boy's face and said with a wickedly gleeful grin, "Come now, Mr. Rosier, surely you didn't think that I would let a near-death experience excuse you from having your homework ready to turn in on Monday."

Dylan laughed, "Of course not, Professor!"

Snape and his student headed upstairs while Sirius and Lupin cleaned up in the kitchen. "An odd pair," Sirius said, shaking his head, "though strangely appropriate. But I never thought that I would see Snape behaving in an almost fatherly way."

Lupin grinned. "He's a bit like Branwen, I think, hiding his concern for his students behind that gruff exterior. But he does care about them, Sirius, all of them, and not just Dylan. He wants to keep them falling victim to Voldemort the way he and his classmates did; you should see how he worries about even the most unpleasant of the Slytherin children, including Draco Malfoy."

Sirius grunted in grudging acknowledgment. "Yeah, and I've heard from Harry's letters that you've been concerned about the Malfoy kid yourself."

Lupin smiled at him. "He's not so bad, or at least he wouldn't be, if not for Lucius Malfoy's influence. However arrogant he might be, he is still a child, one who loves his parents and is worried about them. Someone who is capable of such love cannot be completely irredeemable."

"But when the parents he loves are Death Eaters--"

"We have to show him that there is a better way, Severus and I," Lupin said quietly. "A better way than the one his father has taught him. It will be difficult, but not impossible. After all, Dylan has come over to our side. And I think Narcissa Malfoy could be swayed, if she believed that the Death Eaters were a threat to her son's life. I'm not sure about Lucius, though." Lupin frowned. "I'm not sure that he cares about Draco as anything but a pawn and possession, the heir to the Malfoy house. He showers the boy with money and material gifts, but he always treated his son coldly during the times that I saw them together. I think that's what makes Draco act the way he does, because he is so eager to impress his father and win his approval."

Sirius grunted again. It was bad enough that Lupin and Branwen had forced him to view Snape as a person, with good points as well as bad, and not as just a one-dimensional Death Eater villain, but now he was supposed to feel sorry for Lucius Malfoy's son as well?! Sirius sighed. Well, why not? Now that he had met Dylan Rosier in person, he could no longer think of the boy simply as a Death Eater's son, although life would probably be much easier if he could.

"By the way, Sirius," Lupin said, suddenly giving him a hug, "I'm very proud of you!"

"What was that for?" a startled Sirius asked.

"For apologizing to Severus," Lupin replied. "I know how hard that must have been for you."

Sirius scowled. "Oh, Snape told you about that, did he? Then you know that it didn't do much good. I shouldn't have bothered, it only made things worse."

"You're wrong," Lupin said. "Yes, Severus was upset, but in the long run, I believe it was the right thing to do. I don't know if Severus will ever be able to forgive you, but there could certainly never have been any forgiveness while he believed you were still unrepentant. Perhaps this will help him to heal; those old wounds are still raw, you know..."

"I know," Sirius muttered, flushing with shame as he looked down at his feet, unable to meet Lupin's eyes. "I didn't realize...I didn't know how much I hurt him. I didn't know that..."

"That he really loved me?" Lupin finished, smiling a little, though his expression was still grave. "Do you believe it now, finally?"

"Yes," Sirius said reluctantly.

"Then the apology was worth it," Lupin said, "for your sake as well as Severus's." Lupin suddenly grinned mischievously. "Can it be you're growing up, Padfoot?"

Sirius scowled fiercely for a moment, then gave in and laughed. "Branwen would say it's about time! I suppose I am a slow learner..." Then he scowled again, but Lupin kept grinning, as if he knew that Sirius didn't really mean it. "But I still think you have bad taste in men, Moony!"

Lupin just laughed. "At least I _have_ a boyfriend, Padfoot! I don't see any suitors of either gender lining up outside your door!"

"Ouch!" Sirius said, wincing. "That's a low blow, Moony! Besides, twelve years in prison puts a serious crimp in one's love life!"

Lupin laughed and they finished washing the dishes in companionable silence. There was a faint whiff of tobacco in the air; a small, shadowy figure was visible in the corner of the room. It was Hob, contentedly puffing on his pipe, able to relax now that his "family" was at peace with one another.

"So, what do you think of Dylan?" Lupin asked in a casual manner, as he dried and put away the last dish.

"He seems like a good kid," Sirius said, a little awkwardly. "He's charming, like his father, but he doesn't seem to hold any grudges against Gryffindor."

"Well, he was born of a union of two Houses," Lupin pointed out. 

"I actually kind of like him," Sirius admitted. "Never thought I'd say that about a Slytherin!" Lupin managed to look pleased and annoyed at the same time, and let out his breath in that long-suffering sigh he used whenever he thought Sirius was being unreasonable or showing his prejudices. Sirius idly wondered for a moment if Snape found that sigh as irritating as he did. "We even got to talking," Sirius continued, "when I went up to tell him dinner was ready. We had a few laughs about the old days."

Lupin smiled. "I wondered what was taking you so long.  "Like you didn't set the whole thing up," Sirius retorted, and Lupin smiled sheepishly, confirming Sirius's suspicions. "You could have gone up yourself, but you wanted me to have a chance to get to know the boy. Well, I have to tell you that it backfired. Snape walked in on us and blew a gasket. Started screaming at me to leave the boy alone, that if I touched Dylan he'd kill me." Sirius frowned. "I know Snape hates my guts, but I didn't expect him to lose it like that. I mean, he was acting like he thought I was only being nice to Dylan to get him off-guard and stab him in the back. Does he really think that I'd hurt a kid, even the son of an old enemy? He started shouting about how I'd tried to kill him in the Shrieking Shack twenty years ago."

Lupin looked concerned, and said softly, "I don't think he really believes that you would hurt Dylan, Sirius. I don't even think that he really believes that you intended to kill him back in fifth year, no matter how much he tries to convince himself that you did."

"Then what's his problem?" Sirius asked in exasperation.

"He's probably jealous," Lupin replied calmly.

"Jealous?" Sirius asked, looking bewildered. "Of what? That I was talking to his student?" 

"Jealous that someone he cares about might be getting close to you," Lupin explained patiently. "The way he's jealous of you and me. I can count on the fingers of one hand, the number of people that Severus loves and trusts, and Dylan is one of them. I told you before, Severus has trouble understanding that I can love you without it diminishing my love for him."

"But you're his lover, and Dylan is just a kid," Sirius protested. "And Dylan's not even _his_ kid!"

"Well, it's probably the fact that it's you," Lupin admitted. "He doesn't seem to mind sharing Dylan with his family and with me. But think about how you'd feel if you walked in on Harry laughing and having a good time with Severus. Wouldn't you feel a little angry, a little jealous, perhaps a little betrayed?"

"That's ludicrous!" Sirius snorted, unable to picture such a scene.

"Yes, it's rather unlikely," Lupin sighed. "But for the sake of argument..."

Sirius thought about it, and, chagrined, said, "I wouldn't like it at all!"

"I rest my case," Lupin said with a smile.

"But now he's probably got the Rosier kid convinced that I'm some kind of demon," Sirius complained. "Didn't you notice the way he was looking at me at dinner?"  Still smiling, Lupin asked, "And it bothers you that a Slytherin child might think ill of you?"

"I told you I liked the kid," Sirius said sulkily. "You're the one who's been trying to get me to be more broad-minded."

"I'm just teasing, Padfoot," Lupin laughed, giving him another hug. "I'm really glad that you like Dylan. And don't worry, I think he will come around once he gets to know you. He's a very intelligent boy, and he's able to think for himself and draw his own conclusions. He liked me even when he still thought that Severus hated me."

Sirius sighed, not really sure why it mattered to him what Evan Rosier's son thought of him. Lupin bid him goodnight and headed upstairs after Snape, and Sirius headed up to his own room, deciding that he'd been open-minded enough for one day. Trying to think objectively about Snape and Dylan was beginning to give him a headache, and he needed to rest his poor, overtaxed brain.

*** 

Dylan rested and worked on his homework Saturday night, under Snape's watchful eye. Probably his classmates would have found that more draining than relaxing, but Dylan didn't mind. They had some interesting discussions about potions, and Snape was much less sarcastic and intimidating outside of class. Besides, although he tried to hide it, Dylan could see that Snape was still worried about him, and that made him happy. And although he was still getting over the shock, he was also happy to know that his two favorite teachers didn't hate each other after all--quite the opposite, in fact! Lupin sat quietly reading in one corner of the room, looking up to smile fondly at Dylan and Snape from time to time, until Snape finally asked, "What are you smirking about, Lupin?!"

"I was just thinking how fortunate I am," Lupin replied serenely, "to be able to spend time with two people that I care about very much."

Snape turned beet-red, and turned back to the Potions textbook and snarled, "Name five uses for hellebore, Mr. Rosier!"

Dylan obediently recited, "It is a vital ingredient in the Draught of Peace, it can be used in certain healing potions to treat mental disorders, its narcotic properties are useful in inducing visions, as in the Prophecy Potion..." But meanwhile, he gave Lupin a startled look; the werewolf smiled at him, and Dylan shyly smiled back. 

_Professor Lupin cares about me?_ he asked himself. Then, recalling the way Lupin had comforted him and tucked him into bed last night, answered his own question with, _Yes, I suppose he does._ Snape caught him smiling at Lupin, and scowled. Dylan quickly looked down at his textbook as he finished reeling off hellebore uses, but when he glanced up again, he saw Snape gazing at Lupin, a nearly imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Dylan smiled and bent his head back over his book before Snape noticed.

The next morning, he had a leisurely breakfast with his two Professors and Sirius Black, then finished his homework. Snape looked him over carefully and pronounced him fit to travel, and took him to Uncle Math's estate to visit with his family; Lupin said he would meet them back at Hogwarts. Aunt Goewin and his mother covered Dylan with tears and kisses as they took turns hugging him, while Snape and Uncle Math went off to consult privately in his study. They all had lunch together, although Snape looked a bit uncomfortable, probably because Goewin kept glaring at him the entire time, even though Dylan had tried to assure her that his injuries were all healed, and that it wasn't Snape's fault, anyway.

"You never mentioned much about Dad's family," Dylan said to his mother between mouthfuls. "What were they like?"

"Severus says that you met Armand's portrait," Ariane said with a wry smile, and Dylan nodded. "He was already dead by the time I started dating Evan, but I encountered his portrait as well. He was a proud, fierce old man, and he didn't much care for his great-grandson 'defiling' the family line by proposing to marry a Ravenclaw. Evan's parents were kind enough to me, though. They would rather he married a nice Slytherin girl, of course, but they doted on Evan, so they accepted me for his sake."

"They doted too much on Evan for his own good," Goewin muttered under her breath.

Ariane pretended not to hear, and continued, "Your grandfather Julien was a very handsome man, who looked much like Evan, although he was much more serious and stern. Sometimes Evan's pranks drove him to distraction, but your father usually managed to charm his way out of trouble, or Evan's mother Elin, would make peace between them. She was much more lighthearted than Julien, and could always soothe his temper and make him smile; I think Evan got his mischievous streak from her. She was an herbalist, come to think of it; she used to brew her own potions and tonics for the household. Perhaps that's where your talent at Potions comes from." Ariane smiled, looking a bit wistful and nostalgic. "I got good grades in Potions, of course, but my strongest subjects were Charms and Incantations, and it certainly didn't come from your father!" 

Snape snorted. "Ah yes, I remember the time Evan and Lyall made their cauldron explode in class, but I think it was more deliberate mischief than incompetence on their part. Either way, it earned them a week's detention. Plus they had to scrub down the Potions classroom."

Goewin looked unhappy at all this fond reminiscing, and Math said quietly, "Dylan should know about his father's good points as well as the bad, my dear." To Dylan, he said, "You need not be ashamed of loving your father, child, so long as you do not forget that the path he chose had dire consequences, both for himself and the people he loved." Dylan flushed and nodded, his good mood dampened. "But there was good in Evan as well as evil; the capacity for both lies inside all of us. He is responsible for the choices he made, of course, but perhaps if Deirdre could have accepted him into the family, we could have steered him away from Voldemort. And perhaps I could have made a difference, if I had reached out to Evan and Ariane, rather than abiding, however reluctantly, by my sister's decision."

Dylan felt stunned, and by the expression on his mother's face, she felt the same. "I did not approve of Evan, either, my dear," Math said to Ariane. "I thought he would be a bad influence on you." Ariane flushed. "But I could see how much you loved each other, and I could see you would not be swayed. So I believed that the wiser course of action would have been to let you marry Evan and accept him into our family. I could see that he was not all bad, though I am afraid Goewin is right, and that his parents spoiled him too much, leading him to believe that he was entitled to whatever he wanted, no matter what the cost. But I could see flashes of goodness in him, the love and loyalty he felt towards you and his friend Lyall. I argued with your mother that we could redeem him, prevent him from going over to the Death Eaters. But Deirdre has ever been set against the Slytherins, particularly since her best friend, Fiona Byrne, married Meredith Blackmore, your old Professor's father. She argued with Fiona over it bitterly, saying that Meredith was a Dark Wizard, and she blamed Slytherin in general and Meredith in particular, when Fiona was killed along with her husband in a very suspicious accident." Math sighed. "Meredith was a good lad, more of a dreamer than a Dark Wizard, but he underestimated Voldemort's power and influence. In any case, Fiona's death hardened Deirdre's heart against the Slytherins; that is why she regarded it as such a betrayal when you took up with Evan."

"I didn't know all that," Ariane said in a small voice.

"I should have told you," Math said. "Though I doubt that would have changed your mind. But at least you would have understood the reasons why your mother reacted the way she did. I felt she was wrong to disown you, Ariane, but she is the head of the family, and I abided by her decision. And I did not wish to interfere in the relationship between mother and daughter; I thought it would ruin any chance of a future reconciliation." The old wizard sighed wearily. "I was wrong. But we were so caught up with the war, and there seemed to be little time to tend to personal matters..."

"You stood by me, Uncle, during my trial," Ariane said quietly, reaching out to clasp Math's hands. "I know it was you who persuaded Mother to exert her influence on the Ministry, and I am grateful. And I am grateful that you took me in and showed my son kindness when everyone else scorned him for his father's blood."

Math smiled, though he still looked weary and a little guilty. "The ties between family are not so easily broken, no matter what your mother and brothers think." He affectionately patted Ariane's hand and kissed her on the cheek. "Now, let us finish our meal."

Everyone turned their attention back to lunch, and talked of inconsequential matters, much to Snape's relief, judging from the look on his face. Dylan smiled and made small talk along with the others, but inside he was troubled by Math's confession. All the people he had thought were so wise and powerful, like Uncle Math and Professor Snape, kept talking about how much they regretted the mistakes they had made. If someone as old and wise as Math was fallible, what chance did Dylan himself have? He wanted to weep when he imagined an alternate future in which Evan Rosier had never become a Death Eater, in which his father was sitting with them at the table laughing and joking, in which Dylan could have met his father's parents and learned potion-making from a loving grandmother. 

Then he saw his mother and Professor Snape looking at him with concern in their eyes, and he forced himself to smile and talk about how his friend Damien had made the Quidditch team this year. _No sense dwelling on "what-ifs,"_ Dylan told himself. He had to live in the present, and protect the people he loved that were still alive. And his life wasn't so bad; he had his family--Mother and Aunt Goewin and Uncle Math; he had Professor Snape and Professor Lupin; and he had his friends--Damien, Theo, Blaise, and even Hermione. Slightly cheered, he was able to smile sincerely and describe how Crabbe and Goyle had crashed into each other during practice, and his mother laughed and Snape cracked a small smile, which was as much emotion as he tended to show in public.

Snape let him visit with his family for a few more hours, then returned him to the school in time for dinner. His housemates gathered around him in the dorm, clamoring to know what had happened to him.

"I added a little too much hellebore to my potion," Dylan lied, repeating the story he and Snape had rehearsed. "It used to be used as a purgative, you know."   
"What?" Crabbe asked dully.

"It makes you throw up," Damien translated impatiently. "That explains why you had a stomachache. But some of the other students made mistakes worse than yours, and none of them got that sick."

"Well, hellebore has rather unpredictable effects," Dylan said glibly. "It could have been worse; hellebore is also a narcotic, so I could have been rolling on the floor hallucinating about, I don't know...pink elephants or something."

"Poor Dylan," crooned one of the Slytherin girls. "If you'd stayed in the hospital wing, we could have visited you."

"I wouldn't have been very good company, puking up my guts," Dylan said lightly.

"Oh, you poor thing!" exclaimed another girl. His female admirers crowded around him, fussing over him and giving him get-well cards and gifts, while the boys watched with varying degrees of amusement and jealousy.

"Come on, you lot!" Malfoy finally growled. "We'll be late for dinner, and I don't want the teachers taking points off us for that!"

"You're the one who lost us twenty points in Blackmore's class," one of the older boys grumbled, but under his breath, and the Slytherins began filing out of the dorm.

As they were leaving, Theodore pulled Dylan aside and whispered, "Be careful that you don't get in over your head, Rosier."

"I'll certainly be more careful when mixing my potions from now on," Dylan said lightly, pretending not to understand what Theo was really talking about.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Theodore hissed. Dylan forced himself to stare back at his friend blankly. Theo gave him a frustrated look, then leaned close and whispered in a threatening tone, "Do whatever you like, Dylan, but don't get Blaise and Damien mixed up in it!"

"Theo," Dylan said helplessly. He wanted to tell his friend that he wasn't really a Death Eater, that he wished he'd never gotten involved with them, that he wasn't like Lucius Malfoy and the others...but he had been sworn to secrecy. He had never really minded before, when his classmates--usually the Gryffindors--accused him of being a Death Eater, but he couldn't stand to see one of his best friends looking at him with such contempt in his eyes.

"Hey, are you two coming or what?" Damien called out.

"Coming," Theo called, and hurried to catch up without looking back. Dylan followed, but he had little appetite at dinner, causing the girls to fuss over him again and ask him if he was still feeling sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, my version clashes with canon since this was written pre-HBP. I had my Blaise come from a poor family--sort of a Slytherin version of the Weasleys, only without as many children--because I wanted to show a Slytherin who was outside of Draco's inner circle, who wasn't eager to become a Death Eater. I also wanted to show that some of the Death Eaters' children might have a less glamorous and more realistic view of the Death Eaters and Voldemort than Draco does, which led to my version of Theodore and my OC, Serafina. I later learned from JKR's website that she had intended for Theodore to be "a clever loner who does not feel the need to join gangs, including Malfoy's," but since I wasn't aware of that at the time, I made him a sort-of lackey of Draco's. But since he isn't shown hanging around with Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all the time in the books, I made him a reluctant follower, who only caters to Draco because their families expect it of him.
> 
> My former Head of Slytherin, Professor De Lacy, bears little resemblance to the more boisterous and ambitious Slughorn, but they do share a bit of moral ambiguity.
> 
> The smoke elemental in Lupin's class is based on a class of monsters from the Advanced Dungeons and Dragons game--para-elementals, which are creatures that are combinations from two of the basic elements, in Soot's case, air and fire. They show up in more detail in the sequel to this fic, "Aftermaths."
> 
> The idea of the blood-drinking roses was inspired by a scene from Laurell K. Hamilton's novel _A Kiss of Shadows_. Dylan's roses are quite different from the ones in the book, but that is where the idea originated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Death Eaters stage a prison break at Azkaban; Snape, Lupin, and Dylan take a trip to Diagon Alley, which results in a family reunion of sort.

Dylan went to see Snape in his office the next day. "Theo knows that I'm a Death Eater, I'm sure of it!"

"Theo?" Snape asked, startled. "Theodore Nott?"

Dylan nodded. "He told me not to get in over my head. He told me not to get Blaise and Damien mixed up in it." 

Snape shook his head, still looking a little stunned. "Well, Nott is a Death Eater's son; he would recognize the signs, I suppose. He hasn't told anyone else about this, I hope?"

"No, I don't think so," Dylan replied. Then he said in dismay, "Professor, he really thinks I'm a Death Eater! He thinks I'm like Lucius Malfoy and all the others! The way he looked at me last night...can't I tell him the truth?"

"He's the son of a Death Eater, Rosier," Snape said sharply.

"So am I!" Dylan retorted, upset enough at the thought of losing his friend to talk back to Snape, though he would never have done so under normal circumstances. "He's not like them, he hates his father, he said he was glad that he was in Azkaban!"

"He could be acting," Snape replied coolly, but there was an odd look in his black eyes. Concern? Speculation? Hope? "He might be testing you."

"He's not, I'm sure of it! You didn't see the way he looked at me!"  "People believe that I'm a loyal Death Eater, Rosier," Snape pointed out. "I'm a good actor; perhaps Mr. Nott is as well."

"I don't believe that, but you could use your Legilimency to find out for sure, couldn't you? You could tell whether he was lying or not!"

"It would be very dangerous," Snape said. "I can't just haul him into my office and openly cast the spell on him. I'll try to determine his true loyalties in more subtle ways, but regardless of what they may be, you are not to say a word to Mr. Nott about either your Death Eater status or the fact that you are not truly one of them, do you understand me, Dylan?"

"But Professor--"

"It would be too dangerous, even if you are right about Mr. Nott," Snape said sternly. "If he should let an idle remark slip in front of his father--"

"His father's in prison!"

"I doubt he will be there much longer," Snape snapped. "Or if he should say something to his mother or Draco Malfoy...it is possible that he might even someday meet the Dark Lord, and Theodore does not have Occlumency to protect his thoughts as you do. For your own safety and his, you must say nothing. That is an order, Mr. Rosier!"

"I'm afraid he'll hate me," Dylan whispered.

Snape smiled bitterly. "One gets used to being hated, after awhile."

"How could you stand living like this for fifteen years?" Dylan asked despairingly. "Having everyone believe the worst of you?"

"Well, it's a bit easier for me, I suppose," Snape said sardonically, "since I don't have any friends to worry about. Well, except for Lupin and Professor Blackmore, of course, and they already know the truth." Then he looked more sympathetic, and came over to lay a hand on Dylan's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dylan, I know that it's difficult. But you would only be putting Theodore in danger if you told him the truth. I am glad you told me this, though; I was afraid for awhile that Mr. Nott was heading down the path of becoming a Death Eater himself. Perhaps I can save him from that fate, but I must be careful, and it will take time." He smiled that bitter smile again. "It might also be difficult to win his trust, since he probably believes that I really am a Death Eater. But I'll do my best. In the meantime, Dylan, promise me that you will say nothing to Mr. Nott."

"I promise," Dylan said reluctantly.

"Mr. Rosier?" Snape said as Dylan prepared to leave.

"Yes, sir?"

"Have any of your other housemates shown any signs of being for or against the Death Eaters?"

"Well, Draco can't wait to join, but I guess you already know that," Dylan said, grimacing slightly at the thought of Malfoy's foolishness. "And of course Crabbe and Goyle are the same. Brad Doherty's a little wanna-be, always fawning over Draco, but I don't think Draco takes him seriously. He's not part of Draco's in-crowd." Dylan frowned thoughtfully. "I think most of my housemates are as scared of the Death Eaters as everyone else. They still defer to Draco because they're afraid that the prisoners will break out of Azkaban sooner or later. Oh, and I almost forgot! Serafina Avery said something odd to me in the library once."

"And what might that be?"

"She said..." Dylan paused, trying to remember her exact words. "She called me Draco Malfoy's lapdog." Surprise flickered in Snape's black eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly; he looked amused and annoyed at the same time, and Dylan recalled that many people referred to Snape as Lucius Malfoy's lapdog behind his back. "Um, and I told her that her father was Draco's father's lapdog himself, and she said, 'I thought you were smarter than my father'. I was surprised to hear her talking that way, since she's a Death Eater's daughter, so I...um..." He was pretty sure that Snape wasn't going to like this part. "I asked her wasn't she looking forward to the day when her father and the other Death Eaters reigned supreme--"

Yes indeed, Snape was looking very irate. "Rosier, didn't I tell you to keep a low profile?"

"Yes, sir, I know I shouldn't have said that," Dylan apologized hastily. "I'm sorry. But I was so curious...and I tried to make it sound like a joke..."

Snape sighed. "Well, what was Miss Avery's response?"

"She said that I was a fool if I believed anyone other than the Dark Lord would reign supreme. She said that the fact that my dad's dead and hers is in prison ought to tell me something."

"My goodness," Snape murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't heard Miss Avery say more than two words in class so far this term. I wouldn't have expected such a passionate speech from her." He gave Dylan a wry little smile. "Worked your charm on the young lady, have you?"

"I don't think so, sir," Dylan replied, feeling a little embarrassed. "She doesn't seem to like me very much. She doesn't seem to like anyone very much, actually. Theodore's known her for years, and he says..." Dylan hesitated. "He says that her father used to hit her, but he stopped when she hexed him."

"Yes, I know about Mr. Avery's reputation," Snape said, drumming his fingers on his desk, still looking thoughtful. "Very well, Mr. Rosier, you may go. But let me know if you hear anymore...ah...interesting gossip from your housemates."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said, and left the office.

To Dylan's relief, Theodore made no more reference to the Death Eaters or the night Dylan had been summoned, and neither did he shun Dylan. In fact, he acted as if nothing had happened--almost. The only difference was very subtle: Theodore would speak politely to Dylan, even joke with him as usual, but never spoke of anything consequential, and was just a little more taciturn and guarded than usual. Dylan, of all people, recognized a mask when he saw one, and it made him sad that his friend no longer trusted him. No one else seemed to notice--or at least, Damien didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong. Dylan wasn't so sure about Blaise; he caught the older boy looking very thoughtful once or twice, but if he had any questions or suspicions, he never mentioned them, at least not to Dylan.

*** 

Snape felt sorry for Dylan, but there was far more at stake here than a schoolboy's hurt feelings. It would cause trouble if Nott let slip, either accidentally or on purpose, that Dylan was a Death Eater, and it would cause even more trouble if he began to suspect that Dylan was not a loyal Death Eater. He had never paid much attention to Nott, who was quiet, if sullen, and seemed content--or perhaps "resigned" would be a better word--to remain in Draco Malfoy's shadow. Clearly that had been a mistake.

One day after class, Snape told Nott to remain behind; Nott looked at him nervously, and Malfoy curiously. Snape said in a cool voice, "I need someone to help me prepare potion ingredients, and Mr. Malfoy cannot be spared, as he has Quidditch practice this afternoon. Better run along, Draco; you need to get your team in shape. I would like to see us beat Gryffindor this year--that trophy has been in Professor McGonagall's office for too long."

Draco beamed with pride; he loved being reminded of how important he was--which was exactly what Snape had been counting on. "Yes, sir!" he said. "I won't let you down!" Then he eagerly ran out of the room.

Snape saw Potter and his friends lingering behind, and added in a loud, scathing voice, "And I dare not entrust Mr. Potter with such a task, not without endangering the entire student population." Nott dared to snicker a little, and Potter turned red and stomped out of the room, followed by the other Gryffindors. Weasley glared at Snape on his way out, and Granger gave Snape that hurt, disappointed little look she always wore when she thought he was treating Potter unfairly.

Zabini lingered behind, saying hesitantly, "I could stay behind to help too, sir, if you like..."

But Snape needed to speak to Nott alone. "Did I ask you to remain behind, Mr. Zabini?" he asked coldly.

"Uh, no, sir."

"Then what are you still doing here?"

Zabini gave Nott an apologetic glance and fled the room. Snape handed Nott a large bundle of dried herbs that Professor Sprout had prepared, and ordered him to strip the leaves from the stems and put them into little packets. Nott settled down to work, looking relieved that he hadn't been given a more odious task. Snape sat at his desk, pretending to look at some papers, and slipped his wand out of his pocket, keeping it under the desk, out of Nott's line of sight, and silently mouthed the word, "Legilimens."

"How are you doing in your classes, Mr. Nott?" Snape asked casually.

Nott looked up and said, sounding a little bewildered by his teacher's sudden show of interest, "Well enough, sir."

"Your mother wrote to me at the start of term, asking me to look after you," Snape said, which was true enough. The mothers of Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Avery had written him similar letters.

"I'm fine," Nott said curtly, looking back down at the herbs he was sorting.

"She was very concerned about you--" Snape started to say, and Nott couldn't quite suppress a little snort of derision. Snape raised an eyebrow. "Do you find something amusing, Mr. Nott?" he asked coolly.

Nott looked up again, meeting his eyes; good. "No, sir," he said hastily, flushing a little. "It's just..." Snape sensed feelings of contempt, resentment, and hurt. 

"Just what, Mr. Nott?"

Nott looked down again. "She's never been particularly concerned about me before," he muttered sullenly, "so I don't know why she'd start now."

Snape frowned. Even though he couldn't see the boy's eyes right now, the resentment in his voice was plain enough. "I'm sure she knows that this is a difficult time for you right now," Snape said in a silky voice. "With your father being in Azkaban..."

Nott was startled into looking up and meeting Snape's eyes again; this time there was a strong rush of hatred and fear. He opened his mouth, and for a moment Snape thought he would lose control and speak honestly, but he took a deep breath and repeated, "I'm fine."

Snape sighed inwardly; Slytherins just had too damn much control. "It's possible, of course, that he will not be there for long," he said, just to get a reaction out of Nott. He got one, all right--pure terror. "I mean, of course," Snape added in that silky voice, "that counsel for the accused Death Eaters has been filing appeals to overturn their wrongful conviction."

"Of course," Nott said weakly. Now Nott's fear and resentment were directed towards Snape. It was more than the normal fear and loathing for a harsh teacher, even one like Snape; Dylan was right--Nott hated the Death Eaters. But now that Snape knew the truth, what was he going to do about it?

Snape pocketed his wand and came around from behind the desk to stand in front of Nott. "Is there something you wish to tell me, Mr. Nott?" he asked quietly, trying to look and sound as nonthreatening as possible, which did not come easily to him.

"No, sir," Nott said, shaking his head almost frantically.

"No problems with the Gryffindors harassing you or the other Slytherins?"

"No, sir," Nott replied, fighting to keep a calm demeanor. His control was good, but not quite as good as Dylan's. Snape wondered if Nott might make a good Occlumency candidate, but he didn't think he should risk it right now. Nott might hate his father, but he also feared him, and that fear might prevent him from turning against his father and the Death Eaters. After all, Nott had been following Draco's lead for the past five years, either too afraid to defy him, or not believing that he had any other choice. And how many adults had stood by in the first war and done nothing as the Dark Lord carried out his murderous rampage, too cowed by fear to take a stand against him?

Snape sighed and left Nott in peace, much to the boy's relief. It would take time to win Theodore's trust; coming on too strong too soon would only arouse suspicion. Perhaps he could ask Lupin to reach out to the boy; he seemed to have a way of winning over distrustful children... 

*** 

Theodore left Snape's classroom shaking with fear. _Merlin, please, don't let him be trying to recruit me!_ he pleaded silently. Snape had always ignored him before, and he had been grateful for that. Unlike Draco, he did not want to be singled out; anonymity was much, much safer. When the Dark Lord was still safely banished, Theodore had not minded so much being Draco's lackey. And at home, his father would rant about how one day the Death Eaters would rule the world, and how one day Theodore would join his father in their ranks, but Theodore took it in stride, because it seemed like that day would never come. But at the end of fourth year, the Dark Lord did return, killing Cedric Diggory in the process, and suddenly that day seemed all too close at hand.

Theodore wondered if Dylan had said anything to Snape, and if that was what was behind Snape's little chat today; he grimly thought to himself that he should have kept his mouth shut. At first he had befriended Dylan only because he was part of Malfoy's crowd, but he had come to sincerely like the younger boy. Dylan was not arrogant or cruel like Draco; like Theo, he had seemed to defer to Malfoy only because that was what one had to do to survive in Slytherin House. Dylan's real friends, Damien and Blaise, were much nicer than Malfoy's crowd, and Theodore had enjoyed having real friends, ones he could trust--to a certain extent--and let his guard down with.

But he had let his guard down too far. That was no stomachache Dylan had suffered last Friday; Theodore's parents were Death Eaters, and he recognized a summons when he saw one. He had noticed, even though Damien and Blaise had not, that Dylan's right hand had been heading towards his left arm before he jerked it away at the last moment and grabbed his stomach instead. And he had noticed how Draco had acted sulky and jealous, while everyone else had been worried about Dylan. He knew that Draco was just dying to be allowed to join the Death Eaters; it must be killing him that Dylan had beaten him to it.

_How could you be so stupid, Rosier?_ he silently raged at his friend. But Dylan had never known his father; no doubt he had some misguided, glamorous notions of what the Death Eaters were like. Well, he would find out the truth soon enough. Theodore knew that he was destined to suffer the same fate as his friend; the best he could hope for was to put it off as long as possible. He knew that it was suicide to try and leave the Death Eaters, and he wasn't brave enough to try. The only thing he could do was to try and keep Blaise and Damien from getting mixed up in all this as well. Although if the Dark Lord won the war, then nothing Theodore did or did not do would matter...

*** 

Snape arranged a private talk with Serafina Avery, which was even less successful than his talk with Theodore. For one thing, the girl seemed to have natural psychic blocks; she was very difficult to read. Or perhaps she really was as emotionless as she seemed--Snape had seen that before in the Death Eaters, people whose capacity to feel joy or fear or even hatred had been burned out by the atrocities they had seen and committed. When he mentioned her father, he did feel a faint stirring of contempt from the girl, but no fear...more a sense of resignation. He told her that he had heard that some of the Gryffindors in Lupin's class had taunted her, and registered only indifference.

"I don't care what they think of me," she said, and she seemed to be telling the truth.

"Your mother expressed concern about you in her letter," Snape said, receiving a blank stare and no emotional reaction. "I've talked to your other teachers; they say your grades are good but you do not participate enough in class discussion." Still no reaction. "Professor Lupin--" Snape allowed a hint of distaste to creep into his voice. "--commended your progress in his class, though. He says that you were able to conjure a full Patronus." There was just a hint of something that time--confusion? Probably because she didn't understand why Lupin had been defending her against the Gryffindors, Snape decided. "How is your mother doing?" Snape tried, though he didn't expect anymore of a reaction than he had received to his other questions. "I know things must be difficult for her."

But this time there was a reaction--contempt, this time directed towards Snape. "None of my father's friends have ever cared about her well-being before," she said in that toneless voice she always used. "Why should you start now?" Yes, very strong contempt, and a hint of protectiveness. So--she did not care about her father, but she did feel something for her mother.

"Watch your tone, Miss Avery," Snape automatically snapped, but he flushed a little. He, like all the other Death Eaters, knew that Andreas Avery beat his wife, and like the other Death Eaters, he had never done anything to stop it--it would hardly be in character for a Death Eater to come to the defense of a damsel in distress. Besides, he was able to summon up little sympathy for Delia Avery, a pale, cringing woman with less personality and backbone than that sniveling jellyfish Longbottom. Snape had always had contempt for those who could not, or would not, stand up for themselves. But Serafina's words somehow made him feel ashamed of himself.

"I apologize, sir," Serafina said, remote and indifferent once more.

Snape hesitated over whether to give her detention or not; it would give him a chance to spend more time observing her, but it might also increase her resentment of him when he wanted to win her trust. Finally he sighed wearily and said, "Dismissed," and the girl turned and left. But before she walked out the door, she stopped to look back at him for a second, and he felt just the faintest touch of curiosity, so faint that he wasn't sure if it was real or if he had imagined it. Then the door closed behind her and she was gone.

*** 

Theodore's teachers suddenly seemed to be singling him out for attention, and that was making him very, very nervous. First there was that odd discussion with Snape, which Theo tried to write off as Snape just watching over the Death Eaters' children as usual, although Draco and Dylan were the only ones who normally received that kind of special attention. And recently, Professor Lupin seemed to be going out of his way to be kind to Theodore and praise his efforts in class. Of course, Lupin was always nice to everyone, even Draco, but he seemed to be expending more effort than usual on the Slytherins. He seemed to be trying very hard to encourage Crabbe and Goyle, and now apparently had decided to make Theo his latest pet project.

 _He's an idealist; or at least that's what Draco said Snape says,_ Theodore sneered to himself. _He's probably trying to save our little souls from the Death Eaters._ But although Theodore tried hard to summon up the appropriate feeling of contempt, he felt more regret and despair than scorn. _You're wasting your time, Professor. It's too late. My father would rather kill me than have me turn "traitor". And even if I could escape my father, the Dark Lord never lets go of anything that belongs to him. Our parents pledged us to the Dark Lord before we could even walk._

Theodore responded to all of Lupin's overtures with a sullen glare so that Draco couldn't accuse of him of "sucking up to the werewolf"--Crabbe and Goyle had already been berated for the same offense just because they had smiled a little when Lupin praised their pathetic attempts at a Patronus. So far Lupin didn't seem to be discouraged by Theodore's lack of enthusiasm, though.   Lupin paired them off today, having one partner cast hexes while the other defended with the Patronus Charm or some other countercurse or shield spell. Despite the fact that Lupin said he wanted to promote "inter-House cooperation," he wasn't stupid enough to pair up Gryffindors with Slytherins on this little exercise; no doubt he realized the hexing would get out of hand if he paired up members of rival Houses. Unfortunately, that meant that Theo's partner for today was Draco Malfoy. He knew that Draco had a malicious streak and wouldn't hold back or show any mercy just because Theodore was his "friend".

Theodore had not yet been able to cast a full Patronus, although he had been able to cast a fair-sized silver cloud. But it seemed that having Malfoy as an opponent gave him that extra spur of fear he needed. Draco shouted, "Serpensortia!" as Theo countered with, "Expecto Patronum!" 

"Draco!" Lupin shouted in alarm, pulling out his wand. "Nothing lethal, I said!" But before he could dispel the serpent that burst out of Draco's wand, a sinuous stream of silver mist emerged from Theodore's wand and formed itself into the shape of a weasel. The silver weasel immediately pounced on the snake, bit it sharply behind the head, shook it vigorously, then let the limp body of the serpent fall to the floor. The weasel hovered in front of Theodore, baring its silver fangs threateningly. The entire class, including Draco, stared at it in awe.

Lupin pointed his wand at the snake, and it vanished in a flash of light. "What were you thinking?!" he shouted at Draco, looking pale and a little frightened. "You could have hurt, even killed, your own friend!"

"Aw, Nott handled it just fine," Draco drawled, trying to affect an air of indifference, but he looked a little shaken--probably more by the Patronus than by the thought that the snake could have bitten Theodore.

"Twenty points from Slytherin!" Lupin snapped. "And detention for a week!"

"You can't do that!" Draco protested furiously. "Professor Snape--"

"I most certainly can," Lupin said, in a steely voice Theo had never heard him use before. "And Professor Snape can take it up with me if he doesn't like it."

"It's no big deal, Professor, really," Theodore said nervously, because he knew that he was the one that Malfoy would end up blaming.

"It's a very big deal, Theodore," Lupin said firmly, then smiled. "But you did very well; twenty points to Slytherin." Draco looked as if he didn't know whether to be annoyed or pleased that his lost points had just been negated. "A most impressive Patronus," Lupin continued, as the weasel looked him over warily, as if trying to decide whether he was a threat or not.

"It figures that a Slytherin would have a Patronus like a weasel," Seamus Finnigan muttered scornfully.

The normally unflappable Lupin looked like he was beginning to run out of patience. "Voldemort will not have to waste any energy on us at this rate, if you are determined to tear this school apart from within!" he snapped. "You must learn to work together, like it or not, because more than your grades are at stake here! Your very lives might depend on working together someday!"

The Gryffindors looked a little stunned at the sight of their favorite teacher losing his temper. "But Professor," Weasley--who never seemed to know when to shut up--protested, "how can we trust someone who's a Death--"

"The next person," Lupin interrupted, "to utter a derogatory remark about another House will be joining Mr. Malfoy in detention! Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," the class muttered.

"And a weasel is a bold and fierce fighter," Lupin said, smiling at Theodore again. "Quite an appropriate protector, and one you should be proud of."

Theodore just grunted, thinking to himself sullenly, _You aren't doing me any favors by being nice to me, Professor. It's just getting me into trouble with Malfoy._ He saw some of the Gryffindors giving their teacher puzzled and resentful glances as Lupin told everyone to get back to work. _Not to mention that it's turning the Gryffindors against you._

*** 

"What's wrong with Lupin?" Ron complained at dinner.  "There's nothing wrong with Lupin!" Hermione said indignantly.

"He's been favoring the Slytherins a lot recently," Dean Thomas said.

"Yeah, we don't need two Snapes," Seamus agreed.

"Come on, you're exaggerating, Dean!" Ginny said, glaring at her boyfriend.

The sixth-year Gryffindors explained what had happened in class earlier that day, and Ginny frowned. "It doesn't sound to me like he was being unfair. After all, he gave Draco detention."

"I admit," Harry said, "that I didn't think Malfoy would use such a nasty spell on his own friend."

"Wouldn't it be nice," Ron muttered, "if the Slytherins all killed each other off?"

"Ron!" Ginny and Hermione cried in outrage.

"I don't feel sorry for Nott," Ron said defensively. "His dad was one of the Death Eaters who attacked us at the Ministry, remember? They tried to kill us!"

"I just don't understand why he's always sticking up for the Slytherins," Dean said, "considering the way Snape treats him--"

"Professor Lupin wouldn't punish a student just because their Head of House is rude to him," Hermione said, glaring at him.

"--and how rude _all_ the Slytherins are to him," Dean finished.

"Not all of them are," Ginny protested. "The ones in my year like him; they're just afraid to show it because of Draco Malfoy!"

"Oh right," snapped Dean. "The saintly Dylan Rosier is in your class; you girls always leap to his defense."

"Sometimes, Dean," Ginny said angrily, "you really are an idiot!"

"Oh, he's just jealous," Parvati Patil said in a dismissive tone. "All the boys are jealous of Dylan."

Dean glared at her. "I am not!"

"Aren't you?" Lavender Brown smirked.

"Didn't Rosier mouth off to you in class?" Ron asked with a scowl.

Ginny shrugged. "Yeah, but I don't care. He was probably just afraid that Malfoy might think he was getting too friendly with a Gryffindor."

"You shouldn't be 'getting friendly' with a Slytherin in the first place!" Dean snapped.

Ginny glared at him again. "First of all, I wasn't 'getting friendly' with Dylan; all I did was tell Professor Lupin the truth about who made the werewolf drawing on the blackboard. And second, you have no right to tell me who I can or can't be friends with!"

Things rapidly went downhill from there, with the whole table quarreling over Lupin and Dylan until finally McGonagall came down from the head table to scold them and threaten to dock points from her own House unless they started behaving in a more seemly manner. From the head table, Snape smirked, Blackmore looked annoyed, Lupin looked tired and worried, and Dumbledore looked thoughtful as he stroked his beard.

*** 

"I've heard the gossip," Snape said later that night when he and Lupin were alone. "It's nice of you to try and befriend the Slytherins, Lupin, but I don't think it's working out. All you're doing is alienating your Gryffindors."

"They're not MY Gryffindors," Lupin said testily; the full moon was drawing near, and his emotions were running a little higher than normal. "Minerva is their Head of House, not me."

"Fine, but the Slytherins will never defy Malfoy for your sake, and the Gryffindors are turning against you because they think that you're favoring the Slytherins."

"Being likable is not a prerequisite for a teaching position," Lupin said, with that stubborn look on his face that said he would not be moved.

"Fortunately for me," Snape said with wicked grin, and Lupin smiled.

"I knew it wouldn't be easy," he sighed. "I can't expect to undo hundreds of years worth of animosity in a few weeks. If I want the different Houses to work together, I have to lead by example. I'm not giving up, Severus, just because the Gryffindors are getting a little put out with me."

"Poor Lupin," Snape crooned, running his hands through his lover's long hair. "You'll be gaining a few more gray strands before the year is out, and not from the transformation."

Lupin chuckled. "A little more gray won't matter." He batted his eyelashes at Snape playfully. "As long as you still find me attractive, love."

"I'll always find you attractive, Lupin," Snape murmured as he continued to stroke Lupin's hair.

"Mmm, that feels nice," Lupin sighed, this time with pleasure.

"It's more silver than gray, anyway," Snape said, pressing his lips against Lupin's hair. "Silver and gold."

"My, but aren't you the romantic one, Professor Snape?" Lupin laughed.

"Don't tell anyone," Snape said. "You'll ruin my reputation."

Lupin grinned at him. "You'll have to pay for my silence."

Snape grinned back. "Oh? And what is it going to cost me?"

Lupin whispered a suggestion into his ear.

"You drive a hard bargain, werewolf."

Lupin bared his teeth in a feral grin. "Care to negotiate, Professor?"

Snape licked his lips. "No," he said in a husky voice. "I accept your terms." He pulled Lupin into his arms and kissed him hungrily. They stumbled towards the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothing along the way.

*** 

Lupin informed Draco that he should use his detention time to "reflect on what you've done" and to "help those less fortunate than yourself". _Self-righteous werewolf,_ Draco thought sullenly but silently, not wanting to risk getting more detention. _Lupin used to be such a pushover; I wonder what made him change?_

When Draco complained to Professor Snape, the Potions Master just scowled at him and said, "Didn't I tell you to keep a low profile, Malfoy?"

"Yes, but--"

"And using a Serpensortia spell," Snape continued, "particularly on one of your own housemates--you should know better than that! What would I tell Nott's mother if he'd been killed? You will serve your detention and stay out of trouble from now on, or you will answer to me, do I make myself clear, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, sir," Draco said sullenly.

"Slytherin House has been under even more suspicion and scrutiny than normal since your father and his comrades were arrested, and my own position at the school is none too secure. The last thing we need right now is to draw more attention to ourselves."

"I'm sorry," Draco said in a more chastened voice; he hadn't thought his actions might cause Professor Snape trouble. _So Dumbledore doesn't trust his pet reformed Death Eater as much as he pretends to, hmm?_ Draco mused.

"Low profile," Snape repeated sourly. "Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

The only thing Snape did to help him was to make sure that Draco was still allowed to attend Quidditch practice, but that was probably more due to Snape's desire to beat Gryffindor than out of any sympathy for Draco. Lupin said in a mild tone that it was fine with him, as long as Draco still got his detention chores done. Draco was relieved, but with double duty--both detention and Quidditch practice--it meant he had practically no free time left over. So he ordered Nott and Rosier to do his homework for him; it served them both right--Rosier for showing off how smart he was, and Nott for causing Lupin to give him detention in the first place. Draco ignored the little voice in his head that told him it was actually the spell he himself had cast rather than anything Nott had done that had earned him a detention. Draco frowned a little at that faint stirring of his conscience; he was not used to having such feelings, but he quickly dismissed it and forgot about it.

It seemed that the werewolf meant what he said about helping the less fortunate because Draco's assigned tasks were varied but all in keeping with that theme. He spent a couple of afternoons assisting Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing doing boring, menial tasks such as folding linens, serving meals to patients, and helping to inventory supplies; however, Draco was very relieved that he was not required to scrub bedpans. 

The next couple of detention sessions were less pleasant: he was ordered to help Hagrid care for some sick and injured birds in the Owlery. Several of the damn ungrateful birds bit and scratched him, but he didn't dare complain to Snape about it after the last lecture he had received. Draco was almost grateful to report to the Headmaster the next day, who put him to work packing boxes of food and cast-off clothing to give to charity--the typical holier-than-thou sort of project that Dumbledore was fond of. Draco made no complaints, because it was much better than tending sick, irritable birds with sharp beaks and claws, but he sneered a little as he worked, thinking to himself smugly that the Malfoy family, though temporarily fallen from grace, was still the wealthiest of the pureblood families and would never have to stoop to taking handouts. 

His final two days of detention were almost pleasant: it seemed that Dumbledore had also enlisted Flitwick for his charity project, and it seemed that the little wizard's hobby was making toys. He helped Flitwick construct and paint model broomsticks, horse and carriage sets (he scowled a little when Flitwick told him that Lupin had carved the horses), and intricate birds, butterflies, and dragons. Draco was surprised to learn that his teacher did most of the work by hand, without magic ("It's no fun, otherwise," Flitwick said cheerfully)--for example the wheels on the carriages and the wings on the birds were attached and moved through clever engineering, not magic. 

Personally, Draco thought it was a waste of time, but Flitwick claimed there was something relaxing about working with your hands. Still, it was less boring than working in the hospital wing, and Draco secretly enjoyed painting the toys, taking special care with the little wooden dragon, which was his namesake, after all. He painted it Slytherin green with silver highlights, smiling a little to himself as he recalled how he had finally been able to cast a full Patronus in Lupin's class, and to his pleasure, it had turned out to be a dragon. The entire class had been impressed, even the Gryffindors, though they had tried to hide it; the look of shock and outrage on Potter's face as Lupin said, "Well done, Draco! Ten points to Slytherin!" had been quite satisfying.

When the toys were completed, Flitwick had Draco help him set the final enchantments on them. Draco laughed out loud as little broomsticks--duplicates of the latest, most popular models--whizzed around the room as if they had little Quidditch players on them.

"Have you ever thought about making model Quaffles or Snitches, Professor?" Draco asked.

"No, but that's a splendid idea, Draco!" Flitwick said, beaming at him. "Perhaps you can help with them."

"My detention is over after today," Draco pointed out, feeling almost disappointed.

"That is true," Flitwick said. "But if you ever have any spare time, I would certainly welcome your help."

Draco mumbled something about being busy with his studies and Quidditch. _Dad would have a fit if I wasted my time building toys for charity,_ Draco thought to himself, then had the traitorous thought, _Well, Dad's not around right now, is he...?_

The birds and butterflies fluttered about the room; the dragon, of course, was too proud to flutter, and soared regally around the room once, then landed on Draco's shoulder. Flitwick said, "Finite," and the toys descended to the table or floor and became still once more, except for the dragon, which remained on Draco's shoulder. Draco and Flitwick packed the toys into boxes, to be sent to the children's charity ward at St. Mungo's. As Draco reluctantly plucked the wooden dragon from his shoulder, Flitwick smiled and said, "Why don't you keep that one, Draco? A reward for all your hard work. Besides, it seems to like you."

_What the hell would I want with a stupid toy dragon?_ Draco sneered to himself, but remembered Snape's admonition to "keep a low profile," so all he said out loud was, "Thank you, sir." As he left Flitwick's office, he hid it under his robes so that no one would see him carrying such a silly and childish thing. 

_I'll toss it into the fire,_ he told himself, _or give it to one of the first-years._

But when he got to the Slytherin dorm, he found that he couldn't bear to destroy his creation by throwing it in the fireplace, and decided that those snot-nosed first-years didn't deserve something this nice. So he smuggled it into his room and locked the door. "Volo," he whispered, and let it fly about the room for awhile, then commanded it to stop, and hid it in the bottom of the trunk at the foot of his bed, giving it a little pat before he tucked it under a spare robe and closed the trunk.

*** 

Snape and Dylan were summoned again--ironically enough, during Dylan's Occlumency lesson. At least this time there were no witnesses, and Dylan didn't have to feign illness to divert his housemates' suspicions.

Snape was very worried, but this time, all Voldemort wanted was for Dylan to trim some roses for him; apparently he had not yet found a way to control the plant himself. Dylan nervously took a sharp knife and cut several flowers from the vines, being careful not to touch the thorns. The plant remained quiescent, oozing a bit of clear red sap where the vines had been cut. Dylan slipped what looked like perfectly normal long-stemmed red roses into tall glass flasks, carefully sealing the flasks with cork stoppers and melted wax, as the Dark Lord ordered. Snape felt uneasy as he noticed that the plant had grown more blossoms since they had last seen it, and wondered if it was supposed to do that on its own, or if the Dark Lord had been feeding it... Voldemort accepted the flasks with a smile of pleasure, and dismissed them.

*** 

Soon after that, it was all over the news that the imprisoned Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban. The Warden and the off-duty guards had been drugged with Sleeping Draught; they were the lucky ones. The ones who had been guarding the prisoners at the time were all dead.

The news broke on a Sunday morning; Damien and Dylan were hanging out in the common room after breakfast when Draco Malfoy came running into the room waving a newspaper in the air.

"Look! Look at this!" he cried out excitedly, and held up a copy of the Daily Prophet that said "SPECIAL EDITION" across the masthead in bold letters. The headline below that read: "PRISON BREAK AT AZKABAN!"

"What?!" exclaimed Dylan. "How? When?" He grabbed the paper from Draco's hand, but Draco made no objection; he just grinned smugly. Crabbe and Goyle crowded around him, trying to read over his shoulders. "Prison break...guards dead...rumors of inside help..." Dylan muttered. "This doesn't say anything about how they escaped."

"Who cares?" Draco said. "The main thing is that they're free!" He stared triumphantly at the shocked faces of the children gathered in the common room. "Didn't I tell you my dad wouldn't be in there for long?" he crowed gleefully. The students who had treated Draco less than respectfully after his father's fall from grace looked pale and ill.

"Yes!" said Crabbe, pumping his fist into the air, and Goyle grinned. Dylan handed the paper back to Draco.

"Isn't this great news, Rosier?" Draco said, beaming happily at the front page. "I think I'll have this framed..."

"Yeah, great news," Dylan said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt.

"We should tell Theodore," Damien whispered to him nervously.

"Yes," Draco said, still staring at the newspaper. "Go tell Nott the good news." He made a dismissive gesture like a king sending a servant out to perform some minor task.

Dylan and Damien ran to the dorm room Theodore and Blaise shared, entered without knocking, and got their second shock of the day, which momentarily drove the news of the prison break out of their heads. The two boys were sitting on Theodore's bed--or rather, Theo was sitting on the bed, and Blaise was sitting on his lap, and they were kissing each other passionately.

"MERLIN'S BEARD!" Damien shouted, and Theodore jumped to his feet, dumping Blaise on the floor.

"Don't you know how to knock?!" Theodore screeched.

Damien just stared back at him, his mouth hanging open. Dylan was just as shocked, but had the presence of mind to shut the door.

"Well, we should have remembered to lock the door," Blaise said mildly, rubbing his backside as he got to his feet.

"Sorry," Theodore said, blushing, and helped Blaise up.

"So how long has this been going on?" Damien demanded.

Blaise smiled sheepishly. "Do you remember the night Dylan was asking Theo about Serafina Avery?"

Dylan thought for a moment, then suddenly something clicked in his mind. "I remember! You made some comment about Serafina having nice eyes--"

"Yes, and I was teasing Theo about being jealous," Damien finished. "Don't tell me--"

"He really was jealous," Blaise laughed.

"Do we have to tell them this?" Theodore grumbled, his face turning bright red.

"Aw, come on," Damien said, grinning. "You can't hold out on your best friends!"

"Oh, all right," Theodore said, still sounding rather grumpy. "It all started with that stupid remark about Sera's eyes..."

*** 

After finishing their homework, Blaise and Theodore went back to their own room and got ready for bed. Theo pretended not to see the thoughtful looks Blaise kept giving him, and crawled into bed.

"Goodnight, Theo."

"'Night, Blaise." Theodore rolled over on his side, facing the wall. "Say...Blaise?"  "Hmm?"

"Do you...fancy Serafina?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice casual.

"No," Blaise replied. "Why do you ask? Because I said that about her eyes?"

"Yeah," Theodore mumbled. "Forget I asked. I was just curious."

"Well, they are a very unusual color; very striking. But I don't like her that way. I don't really know her well enough to like or dislike her; she never talks to me, or anyone else."

Theodore said nothing, and continued staring at the wall, but he felt relieved. Over the past year, his feelings for Blaise had changed from friendship to something more. He had not told Blaise that, of course, because there was no way that the other boy could possibly feel the same way, and he didn't want to risk ruining their friendship. It was enough for them to remain friends, to just be near Blaise. At least, that's what he had thought up until now; he had not expected to feel such an intense surge of jealousy when Blaise had seemed to be showing interest in a girl. He had panicked and made an idiot of himself; of course Blaise wasn't interested in Serafina! She was such a strange girl; he couldn't imagine anyone being interested in her. But someday Blaise probably would find a girlfriend--someone prettier and more normal than Serafina--and that thought made Theodore more morose than usual.

Suddenly the mattress sagged slightly, and Theodore felt a hand lightly touch his shoulder. He turned, startled, to see Blaise sitting beside him on the bed. "I like your eyes, too, Theo," he said with a playful smile.

Theodore scowled at him. "You and Damien can stop making fun of me," he snapped.

"I'm not making fun of you," Blaise said seriously. "I do like your eyes, they're a really unique shade of green. Not bright green like a leaf, but more..."

"Murky. Muddy. Ugly," Theodore said sullenly. "One of my cousins once told me they looked like swamp water." 

Blaise shook his head. "Moss-green," he said. "It makes me think of someplace dark and cool and quiet and peaceful, like a forest."

"Obviously you've never been in the Forbidden Forest, if you think a forest is peaceful," Theodore groused, but secretly he was pleased. "Not bad, though--that was almost poetic. Though I doubt many poets write odes to moss." 

"At least your eyes are an interesting color," Blaise said. "Not like mine. Brown is just so...well...ordinary. Nothing poetic about brown. I mean you can say 'as blue as the sky' or 'green as emeralds'. What's brown besides dirt?"

Theodore gazed into Blaise's dark brown eyes. "Brown? Hmm...let's see...how about chocolate?"

"Chocolate?" Blaise laughed.

"Yes, chocolate," Theodore said, suddenly struck by inspiration. "Rich and dark and sweet as a bar of Honeyduke's finest." Then he blushed. _Where the hell did that come from?_ He waited for Blaise to laugh at him, but his friend remained silent, staring at him thoughtfully.

"Theo?"

"Yeah?"

Blaise leaned close enough that Theodore could feel the other boy's breath on his face. "Do you...fancy me?" Blaise asked softly. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes looked serious.

"Yes," Theodore managed to croak in a hoarse whisper. This was a joke, some cruel hoax arranged by Draco Malfoy. Or maybe it was a dream, and he would wake up any second now. But no one jumped out and yelled, "Gotcha!" and he had never had a dream where he felt so awake, so intensely aware of everything around him--Blaise's weight on the edge of the bed; Blaise's warm breath on his face; the way Blaise's smooth, black hair--just barely shoulder-length--fell forward and brushed Theo's face as he leaned closer. Then suddenly Blaise's lips--surprisingly warm and soft--touched his.

_If this is a dream, please don't let me wake up yet,_ Theodore silently pleaded, and wrapped his arms around Blaise and returned the kiss.

*** 

"You sly dogs!" Damien laughed, throwing an arm around each of the blushing boys. He had apparently recovered from his shock. "I can't believe you've been keeping this a secret the whole time!" Then, looking a trifle hurt, he added, "We're your best friends! You could have told me and Dylan, even if you didn't want the rest of the House to know!"

"Sorry," Blaise said, his eyes sliding over to Theodore. "Theo wanted to keep it private. Besides, it's a little awkward...you know, do we just blurt it out at the dinner table: 'Can you pass the salt, and oh, by the way, Theo and I are an item now...'" Damien laughed; he could never hold a grudge for long, and Blaise looked relieved. "Er...you're not weirded out by this, are you?"

"It's a bit of a shock," Damien admitted, "but I'm happy for you two." Then he grinned. "Lucky for you the Slytherin dorms only have two people to a room; I hear the Gryffindors have four or five to a room. You wouldn't get much action in that case!" He laughed out loud as Blaise turned red.

Theodore was not laughing; his eyes were serious and a little frantic. "You can't tell anyone, understand?" he snapped. "Especially not Malfoy!"

"We're not gonna gossip about your love life," Damien said, looking a little puzzled.

"Are you ashamed of me?" Blaise asked quietly. "I can't imagine Malfoy cares whether you shag boys, girls, or sheep, so is it because my family has fallen into what is politely termed 'genteel poverty'? I know how the likes of the Malfoys sneer at us--"

"I don't care about that, you stupid git!" snarled Theodore. "Haven't you figured out by now that it's not safe to attract too much attention from 'the likes of the Malfoys'?!"

"Oh God!" Dylan exclaimed. "I almost forgot, that's why we came to see you!"

"What are you talking about?" Theodore asked.

"The Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban!" Damien said, all his playful good humor gone. "It's in the Daily Prophet; Malfoy's gloating about it in the common room right now!"

All the blood drained out of Theodore's face, turning it from red to sheet-white. "No!" he whispered.

"Theo," Blaise said, looking concerned. He reached out to touch Theodore's arm, but Theo pulled away from him and sat down on the bed, holding his head between his hands, not seeming to notice how hurt Blaise looked. 

"Merlin, this is so bad," he whispered despairingly.

"Your dad is free now," Damien said uncertainly.

"You think that makes me happy?" Theodore snapped, looking a little wild-eyed. "I don't come from a nice, normal little family like yours, Pierce! My father's a Death Eater, or have you forgotten that?!"

Dylan realized that Theodore was afraid of his father. "He won't dare come near Hogwarts, surely," he said, trying to sound comforting.

"I can't stay here forever!" Theodore snarled. "Besides, this is not just about me and my dad! Don't you guys get it? The Dark Lord is back! The second war is coming, and soon!"

His three friends exchanged nervous looks. "Um...well..." Damien stammered.

"Right," Theodore said contemptuously. "That's how the Ministry acts, that's how everyone acts--if we don't talk about it, maybe it will all go away!"

"We're just kids," Damien protested. "What are we supposed to do about it?"

"Nothing," Theodore mumbled, the anger draining out of him, replaced by despair. "There's nothing you can do." He lay down on the bed and turned away from them. "Go away."

"Theodore--" Dylan said.

"Go away!"

"Go," Blaise said softly. "I'll stay with him.''

Dylan and Damien left the room, feeling very much subdued. "Theo's dad is a Death Eater, but he--"

"Shh," Dylan cautioned him. "It's not safe to talk about such things, especially in this House."

Damien fell silent, and gave his friend a measuring, speculative look. Although he said nothing, Dylan knew what he was thinking: "Your father was a Death Eater, too. Which side will you be on, when the time comes?"

_And now it begins,_ Dylan thought to himself. _The fear, the suspicions, even between friends and members of my own House. If even my own friends don't really trust me, if Slytherin House is divided, how is the entire school supposed to unite?_

They returned to the common room to find Draco sprawled out across the couch, surveying the room like a king holding court. "So where's Nott?" he asked.

"Still in his room," Dylan said. "He was, um, overcome with emotion." Which was true enough, after all...

"Hmm, didn't think Nott was the sentimental type," Draco mused. "But it is great news, after all." He smiled smugly. "Soon, Rosier, soon...there'll be no more foolish talk about 'uniting the Houses' and we won't have to put up with those Mudblood-loving Gryffindors. Slytherin will rule Hogwarts, the way we were meant to..."

Crabbe and Goyle grinned. A few of the other Slytherins looked excited, and many more looked frightened, but no one dared to contradict Draco.

*** 

"Theodore," Blaise whispered, but his friend and lover ignored him, remaining curled up on his side on the bed. "Do you want to talk about it?" Silence. "Why do you hate your father, Theo?"

"The less you know about my family the better," Theodore said in a hollow voice. "In fact, you should stay away from me, for your own good."

"I don't care that your father is a Death Eater," Blaise said. "I know you're not like him."

"You're too trusting to be a Slytherin, Blaise," Theodore said, without looking up. "How did you ever wind up in this House?"

"The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw," Blaise replied, "but I asked it to put me in Slytherin because my family have always been Slytherins, and my parents would be upset if I were put in another House. And I've always wanted to learn everything about magic that I could, and I knew there were some things that you could only learn in Slytherin House." Blaise smiled. "Besides, I'd never have gotten to know you if I'd gone into Ravenclaw."

"You'd be better off there," Theodore said in that hollow voice. "Safer. It's not safe to be my friend, Blaise."

"I don't care," Blaise said. He lay down beside Theodore and wrapped his arms around him. "I won't leave you!" he said fiercely. "I'll never leave you."

"You should," Theodore whispered, but he let Blaise hold him.

*** 

Dumbledore convened an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. Arthur Weasley looked very tired, rumpled, and shaken, and Molly Weasley's eyes were red from weeping. "They're accusing Arthur and Tonks of orchestrating the break-in!" she cried out.

"The Warden of Azkaban claims that Tonks and I showed up to conduct a surprise inspection, which of course is not true," Arthur said wearily. "They questioned me for hours, and only let me go 'pending further investigation' because a number of witnesses placed me at St. Mungo's at the time." He smiled wryly. "For once, we have to be grateful for Fred and George's experiments. There was a mishap with some fireworks they were experimenting with; nothing serious, just some minor burns and scrapes, but the hospital notified us--over the boys' protests, I might add--so of course Molly and I went down to see them--"

Molly wept. "I was so angry at the time, but thank goodness..."

"Where's Tonks?" an alarmed Sirius asked, jumping to his feet.

"She's still being held at the Ministry," Kingsley Shacklebolt said grimly. "Unlike Arthur, she was home alone last night, and has no one who can testify to her whereabouts." Sirius jumped up, and Lupin and Branwen had to wrestle him back into his seat to prevent him from charging to his cousin's rescue. "Don't be a fool, man," Shacklebolt said sharply. "What are you going to do, wage a one-man assault on the Ministry of Magic? Not to mention that it won't look good for her if the notorious Sirius Black shows up to try and break her out of custody."

"What are you going to do to help her?" Sirius demanded.

"I know she's your cousin, Black, but she's my colleague and friend!" Shacklebolt snapped. "You're not the only one who cares about her!" He took a deep breath and said, "Sorry, I'm on edge. I haven't gotten any sleep since I was alerted about the break-in last night."  "We need to know what happened before we can help Tonks," Branwen said with uncharacteristic gentleness. "Will you be patient for a little while more, and let Kingsley tell us the whole story?" Sirius nodded reluctantly.

"Why on earth would Arthur be conducting an inspection, anyway?" Goewin asked. "He's head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. And Tonks is an Auror, but a relatively young and low-ranking one. They're the least likely pair I can think of to head up such an investigation; wasn't the Warden suspicious?"

"They had perfectly forged documents that appeared to have the Minister of Magic's signature and seal," Shacklebolt replied. "And you know how the Ministry works--follow orders without question. But the impostors did have a reasonable explanation, that the Minister wanted someone from outside of the Department to head up the inspection, someone more likely to be objective."  "That's logical," Branwen said dryly, "which makes it all the more unlikely that Cornelius Fudge would ever suggest such a thing."

Shacklebolt almost smiled at that. "Also, Arthur's status has gone up recently, since Albus has once more won back his respect and influence--and now that Lucius Malfoy and his cronies, who were always attempting to belittle and discredit Arthur, were revealed to be Death Eaters. And Tonks is regarded as a bit of a hero since she was wounded in that battle at the Ministry, so to be fair to the Warden, it seemed unusual but not suspicious that Arthur and Tonks would be checking on security at Azkaban."

"So what exactly happened?" Sirius asked impatiently.

"The Warden showed Tonks and Arthur around the prison, had some coffee with them in the cafeteria--they must have drugged him and the other guards then; the preliminary investigation showed traces of Sleeping Draught in the tea and coffee urns. Then apparently they disabled the protective wards on the prison and let in a number of masked Death Eaters, and they attacked the remaining guards and freed the prisoners." Shacklebolt's expression turned grim. "Those guards are all dead, but one survived long enough to identify Tonks and Arthur as being among the attackers. The Death Eaters probably left him alive on purpose so that he could implicate them."

"That's crazy!" shouted Sirius. "Tonks is a Metamorphmagus; why would she use her real face if she were going to participate in a prison break?"

"A logical assumption," Shacklebolt said, "and one I pointed out to the investigators. Likely it is the only reason why she is being held in 'protective custody' and has not been outright arrested and charged with murder yet. But the Ministry is in a panic, and she is the only suspect they have at present."

"Damn it!" Sirius said, pounding his fist on the table. "We all know who's responsible, it's Gwydion Donner!" He glared at Snape. "And you--the Death Eaters must have used the Polyjuice Potion you made to impersonate Arthur and Tonks!"

"I warned you that a prison break was coming sooner or later," Snape said in a cold voice. "And I warned you that the Dark Lord ordered me to make Polyjuice Potion and Sleeping Draught. But I did not know who they were planning to impersonate. The Dark Lord did not give me the hairs of the intended targets; I finished brewing the potion, save for the final step, and sent it to him uncompleted, as ordered. It seems he does not completely trust me. Then again, the Dark Lord has always been paranoid, and he never fully informs his servants of what he plans to do."

"That's not all," Shacklebolt interrupted, before Sirius could make a retort. "The witness said that some of the guards were felled by Unforgivable Curses, but others..." He fell silent for a moment and his eyes turned towards Snape. "Others were felled by magical roses. The Death Eaters hurled glass flasks containing roses at the guards; they shattered on impact, and the roses latched onto the flesh of the guards and began draining their blood. I saw the bodies; it was not a pretty sight."

"Oh Merlin," Goewin whispered. "He used Dylan's roses." She glared at Snape. "This is all your fault!"

"I'm sorry," Snape said quietly, to the amazement of everyone but Lupin, Branwen, and Dumbledore.

"Sorry doesn't do much good now, does it?" Goewin snapped.

"Don't blame Severus--" Lupin started to say.

"Can we get around to assigning blame later?" Sirius shouted. "What are we going to do to help Tonks?!"

"I will go and speak to Cornelius," Dumbledore said calmly, although he looked tired and worried, "and try to talk some sense into him."

"Good luck," Snape said sarcastically.

Sirius did not seemed satisfied with Dumbledore's response. "We're all agreed on the fact that Cornelius Fudge has no common sense!" he snapped. "Maybe it's time for Snape to break his cover and testify--"

"It would put Severus at risk!" Lupin protested.

"So we should just let them convict Tonks and send her to Azkaban--?"

"She hasn't been convicted yet," Lupin said.

"And it's just been proven that Azkaban is not much good at holding anyone," Snape muttered under his breath. Both Sirius and Lupin glared at him.

"You could at least pretend to be just a little concerned, Snape," Sirius complained.

"I have no particular fondness for Miss Tonks," Snape said coolly, "but neither do I wish her any harm. If the Headmaster orders me to do so, I will testify against the Death Eaters, but the word of one Death Eater against another may not be worth very much, and you should be aware that if I do so, I will not only be endangering my life but Dylan's. Everyone believes that I have selected Dylan as my protege, and if my loyalty becomes suspect, so will his."

"NO!" Lupin and Goewin shouted at the same time.

"Dylan's been put in enough danger as it is!" Goewin said in a voice shrill with fear. "I won't have him subjected to more!"

"But--" Sirius protested.

"I understand your frustration and concern, Sirius," Dumbledore said quietly. "But before taking such drastic measures, let me try to resolve this by conventional means. It is not a step to be taken lightly, endangering two lives, not to mention losing the only spy we have in Voldemort's camp."

"Let Albus handle this first, Sirius," Branwen said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "If that doesn't work, then we can discuss what to do."

"I'll do everything I can for her as well," Shacklebolt said. "She has many friends among the Aurors; we won't just stand by and let her be railroaded, trust me."

"All right," Sirius said reluctantly. "But I want to go with you, Albus." To his annoyance, everyone in the room looked alarmed, except for Snape, whose face held only its usual expression of cool disdain. "I'm not going to throttle Cornelius Fudge," he said in a caustic voice. "At least, I'll try my very best not to. But I want to see Tonks, make sure she's okay. She's practically all the family I've got left--not counting the ones who are Death Eaters."

"I think I can arrange for you to see her," Shacklebolt said. "But you'd damn well better keep your temper under control, Black. You won't be doing your cousin any favors if you start screaming insults and threats at Ministry personnel."  "All right," Sirius said, grinding his teeth. "I promise."

"Very well," said Dumbledore, although he didn't look entirely convinced. "The three of us will leave now, and I'll send the rest of you word as soon as I can."

The meeting adjourned, and the members dispersed, leaving only Snape, Lupin, and Branwen behind. As soon as they were alone, the mask on Snape's face slipped, revealing guilt and horror. "The Dark Lord has put blood on Dylan's hands," he said.

"Dylan didn't hurt anyone," Lupin said. "It's not his fault--"

"No," Snape said, "it's mine. But Dylan will feel responsible when he finds out. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the Dark Lord's intention. That is how he draws people into his web, step by step. Some of the Death Eaters were all too eager to kill and torture, but others were more reluctant. He drew them in slowly, making them indirectly responsible for a victim's death or pain. And once they had blood on their hands, most of them felt there was no turning back."

Branwen nodded solemnly. "That is rather demon-like," she said. "To corrupt by slow and subtle means. Some, I imagine, became gradually inured and hardened till they felt no guilt, and for others, the guilt was so overwhelming that they believed there was no redemption or forgiveness for them." She gave Snape a look of concern and sympathy.

Snape laughed, a harsh and bitter sound. "You liked to read Shakespeare when we were in school, didn't you, Lupin? I feel rather like Lady Macbeth, unable to wash the blood off my hands. I wanted to spare Dylan that guilt, but I have failed."

"Perhaps we shouldn't tell him," Lupin suggested, but Snape shook his head.

"No, he'll learn the details sooner or later, and it's better that he hears it from me than from the Daily Prophet or Draco Malfoy."

"From us," Lupin said firmly, slipping his arms around Snape and holding him tightly.

"Please, Lupin, restrain yourself," Snape complained, flushing as Branwen grinned at them, but Lupin's gesture of support did make him feel just a little bit better.

"I am restraining myself," Lupin said, feigning a wounded look. "I didn't do this, after all." He kissed Snape on the mouth, a long and deep kiss.

Snape pulled away--but not too quickly. "Lupin!" he spluttered.

"I think that's my cue to leave," Branwen laughed. "I'll see you two back at school."

*** 

Even though Sirius's name had been cleared, people at the Ministry stared at him with fear and suspicion. Sirius had to clench his fists and grit his teeth to keep himself from saying or doing anything rash, which probably didn't do anything to make him seem less threatening. Sirius was left cooling his heels in the Atrium while Shacklebolt and Dumbledore went to haggle with some Ministry officials, then Shacklebolt returned alone.

"They'll let you see Tonks," he said. "I'll take you there." Tonks was being held in what was essentially a holding cell; it was not officially called such and there were no bars, but there was a pair of guards outside the door, which was covered with magical wards, and Sirius and Shacklebolt were required to surrender their wands before they were allowed to enter. Inside it looked like a normal enough room, with a small table, two chairs, and a couch, but there were no windows. Tonks had been lying on the couch, but she jumped up when she saw Sirius and Shacklebolt.

"Sirius!" she exclaimed. "Kingsley!" She ran up and hugged her cousin; Sirius held her tightly for a moment, then pulled back to take a look at her. Her spiky violet hair was looking a little limp, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but what really caught his eye was the collar around her neck: a wide band of silver etched with runes and set with a faintly glowing green gem in the center. Tonks grimaced and said, "It's one of Gwydion's Squib Collars--that's what they're calling them now, you know. Never thought I'd be wearing one myself. I can't tell you how strange it is not to be able to touch my magic--my dad might've been Muggle-born, but for the first time I understand what it must really feel like to be a Muggle, and I don't much like it."

"Damn that Gwydion," Sirius snarled, but Shacklebolt touched his arm and gave him a look of warning.

"Be careful what you say," he cautioned. "There are eyes and ears everywhere in the Ministry."

That meant "don't talk about Order business," and Shacklebolt was right; Sirius wouldn't be surprised if someone was listening in on them right now--in fact, he'd be more surprised if they weren't. 

"Are you all right, Tonks?" Sirius asked anxiously. "You haven't been hurt...?"

"They haven't brought out the thumbscrews yet," she replied, managing a wry smile. "But they did roust me out of bed in the middle of the night and grill me for hours. Of course, I can't tell them anything, because I don't KNOW anything..." She sighed in frustration. "It's so stupid! Why would I use my own face to commit a crime, when I could pretend to be anyone I wanted? And if I wanted to openly declare myself as a Death Eater, why would I sit at home waiting to be arrested?" She raised her voice, as if to address any unseen listeners eavesdropping on them. "If I am a Death Eater, why am I not at my Master's side, rejoicing?"

"Take it easy, Tonks," Shacklebolt said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I believe in you; we all do." He raised his voice as well. "None of the Aurors believe you could possibly have committed such an act." He sighed and said in a more normal voice, "Unfortunately, there are some misguided fools in the Ministry who are not quite convinced of Sirius's innocence, and they say that you must be in league with your cousin."

"WHAT?!" Sirius roared.

"Don't tell him things like that," Tonks scolded her fellow Auror.

"He needs to know the truth if we are to help you," Shacklebolt said unrepentantly, then added, "You promised to keep your temper, Black."

"Dammit, Wormtail was spotted at the Ministry battle when he was supposed to be dead," Sirius complained. "What more do they want?"

"It would have helped if we were able to capture him," Shacklebolt pointed out. "Seeing is believing, and none of your naysayers personally witnessed the battle."

"Well, I would have liked to," Sirius said sarcastically, "if I hadn't been slightly disabled by my dear cousin Bellatrix blowing a hole in the middle of my chest. I swear, when I get my hands on that little rat--"  "Temper, Black," Shacklebolt warned.

Sirius realized he must be looking rather murderous right now, and took several deep breaths and got himself under control. "Why did the Death Eaters choose you and Arthur to impersonate?" he wondered out loud.

"I don't know," Tonks replied. "Maybe because of what Kingsley just said; maybe they counted on your status as a supposed criminal to rub off on me. And maybe because Arthur and I are known supporters of Dumbledore, and they wanted to get back at us, especially me, since I did some damage to a few of them personally at that last battle."

"Maybe they just chose whoever's hair they could get hold of," Shacklebolt suggested, then rubbed his bald pate. "Maybe the only reason they didn't impersonate me was because I had no hair to get hold of!"

Tonks giggled in spite of herself. "If I ever get out of here, perhaps I'll start shaving my head!"

"Someone in the Ministry obviously has to be involved," Sirius said pointedly, for the benefit of whatever Ministry agents were spying on them. "Probably someone who works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, someone who would have easy access to Arthur's office or the Aurors' desks and be able pick up a stray hair or two without anyone noticing."

They spent what seemed like hours in that cell-that-was-not-really-a-cell. They rehashed the prison break for awhile, until Tonks finally pleaded with them to talk about something more cheerful, so Sirius talked about how Harry was doing at school and how Hob kept hinting that Sirius should find himself a "Missus".

Tonks actually laughed at that last comment. "Perhaps you should, Sirius!"

Sirius was pleased to see her smile. "Well, if you line up some likely candidates..."

"As soon as I'm free," she promised.

Finally, a weary-looking Dumbledore showed up. "I was not able to convince the powers that be to free you, my dear," he said to Tonks. "But I was able to wring a compromise out of them. I have convinced them to release you into your cousin's custody, but you will remain under house arrest at his residence; you will not be permitted to leave it without express permission from the Ministry, and..." Dumbledore paused and grimaced. "They insist you wear that so-called Squib Collar."

"Dammit, Albus!" Sirius shouted, jumping to his feet. 

"It was the best I could do," Dumbledore said. "And I had to personally guarantee her good behavior. It is only until we clear her name--"

"And how long will that take, with the Ministry being so stubborn?" Sirius snarled. "In the meantime, there are Death Eaters on the loose, and she's helpless with that collar on!"

"Which is another reason why she must not leave your house," Dumbledore said gravely. "For her own safety."

Sirius was about to raise more objections, but Tonks stopped him. "It's all right, Sirius. I know that Albus did his best, and it's certainly better than remaining here or occupying a guest suite at Azkaban!"

"But--"

"Please, Sirius," she said. "I don't like it either, but I have been staring at these walls for hours, and I would like to get out of here, have something to eat, and get some rest."  She looked so tired, and despite her show of good spirits earlier, near the end of her rope, and it awoke Sirius's protective instincts towards his younger cousin. "All right," he said gently. "Let's get you home and have Hob serve you a nice hot meal."

"That sounds wonderful," she sighed.

Sirius put an arm around her, and they prepared to leave, but Dumbledore stopped them before they walked out the door. "By the way, Sirius, I must warn you not to tamper with the collar. I know of course, that a law-abiding citizen like you would never try to illegally remove it--" His eyes twinkled a little despite his weariness. "--but if someone should try such a thing, it would set off an alarm that would immediately alert the Ministry, and Tonks's conditional release would be revoked."

"I understand," Sirius said in a surly voice.

Dumbledore patted Tonks on the shoulder affectionately. "We will be doing everything we can to clear your name and free you."

"I know you will, Albus," Tonks said. "I'll be counting on you." She looked at Shacklebolt's worried face and said, "On you, too, Kingsley. And don't worry about me in the meantime; Sirius will take good care of me." Shacklebolt did not look reassured by that; if anything, he looked more worried, and Tonks laughed. "I'll just consider it a vacation," she said lightly. "I'll catch up on my reading and get fat on Hob's good cooking. I'll be fine." She stood on tiptoe and gave Shacklebolt a peck on the cheek. Sirius was not sure, but he could have sworn that the dark-skinned wizard blushed. Then he escorted his cousin out of her cell and took her home.

*** 

Dylan was surprised when he was summoned to Professor Snape's office and found Lupin there with Snape. They broke the news to him--Lupin doing most of the talking in a kind and gentle voice--about how the Death Eaters had used his roses to kill the guards at Azkaban.

"It's all my fault!" Dylan said, filled with horror and dismay. "If I hadn't brought the roses out of my father's house for the Dark Lord--"

"He would have killed _you_ ," Snape finished. "You had no choice, Dylan."

"But if I hadn't been so stupid in the first place, if I'd listened to your warnings--"

"The Dark Lord had his eye on you from the moment you entered Hogwarts," Snape interrupted again. "You are the son of one of his Death Eaters; there is no way you could have escaped his attention. He probably would have had you either recruited or eliminated eventually, even if you had heeded my warnings. The Dark Lord regards the Death Eaters as his property, and he does not allow his property to just walk away from him."

"But--"

"You are not responsible for the deaths of those guards, Dylan," Lupin said in a firm but gentle voice, placing his hands on Dylan's shoulders. "The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters are the ones who wielded the roses as a weapon, not you."  "But I put that weapon into their hands," Dylan said, shuddering. He remembered what the roses had done to him, their own "master"; that had been bad enough. It was all too easy to imagine what it would be like if the roses did not stop, but kept on drinking until their victim was dead.

"The person who wields the weapon and commits the crime is the one who bears the guilt and the blame," Lupin insisted. "Incantations and Summonings was banned from the curriculum for many years for supposedly being of the Dark Arts. But Professor Blackmore said the spells were like a knife--in the hands of a surgeon, a scalpel could be used to heal, but in the hands of a murderer, the same object could be used to kill."

"That might be true enough of Professor Blackmore's spells," Dylan replied, "but the roses were obviously made for nothing but death."

"It's still not your fault," Lupin said quietly.

"Even without the roses, the guards would still have perished," Snape pointed out. "Most of them were slain with Killing Curses. The Dark Lord didn't really need the roses for this mission; he probably just wanted to see how they worked."

Dylan did not find that very comforting. "That only means that he plans on using them for something even worse."

"Probably," Snape sighed, and Lupin shot him an irritated look that obviously said, "We're supposed to be comforting the boy, not making him feel worse!" Dylan couldn't help but smile a little at that, and the two adults looked relieved.

"Well, I just thought you should hear about it from us rather than Malfoy or the Daily Prophet," Snape said awkwardly. 

"Yes, sir," Dylan said. "I appreciate that."

"Very well," Snape said. "You may go now, Mr. Rosier."

"And you may come see me--see us--anytime you like," Lupin said. "If you just want to talk."

"Thanks for volunteering my services, Lupin," Snape muttered sarcastically.

"Anytime, Severus," Lupin replied cheerfully, giving Snape a sweet smile.

Snape started to turn red and look flustered, so Dylan decided that now was a good time for him to leave. He left the room feeling a little confused, about his Professors and about himself. There was a certain affection in the way Lupin teased Snape; why had he never noticed that before? Probably because they had gone through great lengths to hide it, Dylan decided. Besides, no one would ever suspect a Gryffindor of being in love with a Slytherin and vice versa. 

Dylan shook his head a little; it was still a great shock to him that the two supposed enemies were a couple. They were such polar opposites; he wondered what had drawn them together. Then again, Dylan's mother and father had been opposites, too, come to think of it--Ariane the typical studious, serious Ravenclaw and Evan the charming, roguish prankster. Maybe there was some truth to that old saying that opposites attract.

As for himself, Dylan was still disturbed by the fact that the Dark Lord had used his roses to kill people, although in the back of his mind he had known that was what Voldemort must have had in mind--it wasn't as if the Dark Lord was planning to take up gardening as a hobby, for Merlin's sake! When Dylan had aspired to be a Death Eater like his father, he had taken it for granted that he would have to kill in the Dark Lord's service one day, but now he found that it was much harder to face the reality than the fantasy. _I wonder if it was hard for my dad to kill his first victim, if he felt regret or horror?_ Dylan wondered. _Or...was it easy? Did he like it?_ He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know the answer to that...

*** 

Halloween was soon upon them; there was some talk of canceling the students' trips to Hogsmeade after the prison break, but it was eventually decided that the trips would be permitted to continue, with some of the teachers going along as chaperones. The students were also cautioned to be on their guard, stay in groups, and not run off on their own. Some of the parents, of course, chose to revoke their permission for their children to leave the school. Dylan's mother was one of them; she sent him a letter saying that he was not allowed to leave the school unless personally accompanied by Professor Snape.

 _Oh great,_ Dylan thought to himself. _Like Snape is going to want to play baby-sitter!_ There was a certain bond that had developed between them, it was true, and he even believed that Snape would risk his life on Dylan's behalf (he already had, actually, by teaching Dylan Occlumency and enlisting the Order's help to heal Dylan, because Voldemort would surely kill him if he ever found out about it), but he did not by any stretch of the imagination think that Snape would be happy to play chaperone on a Hogsmeade outing. 

Snape was still Snape after all; the fact that he was a secret spy and hero for the Order of the Phoenix did not negate that fact that he was also the dour, acerbic Potions Master. Some of his bad temper was probably feigned, but Dylan knew him well enough by now to realize that most of it was real, although that didn't change his respect or liking for the man.

But...no harm in asking. (At least, Dylan hoped not.) So he went to Snape's office a couple of days before Halloween, letter in hand, although he didn't have much hope of a positive response.

Snape did not seem offended, but he did look tired and distracted. "Your mother sent me a letter, too, Dylan. I'm sorry, but I don't have time to go to Hogsmeade; I have some errands I need to run in Diagon Alley that day."

"I understand, sir," Dylan replied. He was disappointed, but he had expected as much.

But his disappointment must have shown in his face, because Snape hesitated, then said, "You could come with me if you like, I suppose. It might be rather boring; I'm just buying potion ingredients and such..."

"Thank you, Professor!" Dylan said, his face lighting up. "I'd love to!"

Snape actually smiled, seeming pleased if a bit puzzled. "Fine. Meet me here at my office after breakfast, then."

When Malfoy heard about it, he was of course very put out. "Why do you get to go on a private trip with Snape?" he demanded in a slightly jealous tone.

"Yeah!" Crabbe and Goyle echoed, flanking Draco with threatening looks on their faces.

Dylan just rolled his eyes. "Does anyone really think that spending their holiday in Snape's company sounds like fun?"

"Uh..." said Crabbe, scratching his head. "When you put it like that..."

"No?" Goyle finished.

Theodore said, "He does have a point, Draco. I'd certainly consider being stuck with Snape the whole day--our day off, no less--more punishment than reward."

Draco frowned, but looked less angry. "Well then, why'd you agree to go with him, Rosier?" he asked.

"I thought he might be offended if I said no," Dylan replied. He sighed heavily. "I'd much rather go to Hogsmeade with you guys, or even just stay in and read. He'll probably turn a trip to the Apothecary into an impromptu lesson." He mimicked Snape's deep voice, "Identify this herb, Rosier, and name five different potions it can be used in..."

The children in the common room laughed, and even Draco smiled. "Chin up, Rosier," he said, patting Dylan on the shoulder in a sympathetic--if slightly patronizing--way. "We'll bring you back some chocolate from Honeydukes."

"Thanks," Dylan said, feeling pleasantly surprised. Draco Malfoy being nice--was the world coming to an end? Then Dylan was struck by the realization that the world as they knew it would indeed come to an end if Voldemort won the war, and it no longer seemed so funny.

When Draco had moved out of earshot, Damien said, "Maybe it won't be so bad. There are a lot of cool shops in Diagon Alley. Maybe Snape will let you do a little shopping of your own, if he's in a good mood. Fortescue's has great sundaes, and Snape does have a sweet tooth. And there's Gambol and Japes, they have a lot of neat trick and gag items. And--" he lowered his voice to a whisper. "--I hear that shop the Weasley twins opened, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, is really cool!"

"Are you out of your mind?" Dylan hissed. "Do you really think Snape is going to want to go to a shop run by a couple of Gryffindors? And you know how much he hates the Weasleys!"

Damien shrugged. "Maybe you can convince him to let you go off on your own for a bit while he's picking up his potions stuff. You are his favorite student, after all. Anyway, if you do get a chance to go there, pick me up a Skiving Snackbox; there's a quiz coming up in History of Magic that I'm dying to get out of."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just study rather than make yourself sick?" Blaise suggested pointedly.

Damien grinned unrepentantly. "Just a little bit sick, and maybe I can get the girls to fuss over me the way they do Dylan!" Blaise just sighed and rolled his eyes, and Dylan laughed. "And get me some of those Ton Tongue Toffees," he added. "I'd love to slip one of those to Doherty, the little git."

Theodore shook his head. "Just don't let Malfoy find out you've gone there; he'll have a fit."

"I doubt I'll get a chance to go there," Dylan said, smiling. "But I'll see what I can do."

*** 

Dylan showed up at Snape's office on Halloween morning as planned, but to his surprise, Lupin walked up just as he and Snape were about to leave.

"And what do you want, Lupin?" Snape snapped.

"I have some books I need to pick up at Flourish and Blotts," Lupin replied cheerfully, ignoring Snape's rudeness. "So I thought I might tag along."

"My reputation would suffer if I were to be seen in the company of a werewolf," Snape sneered, and Dylan stared at his two teachers, almost in a state of awe. He would never in a million years have guessed that they were lovers, if Lupin had not inadvertently revealed that fact while Dylan was recuperating at Sirius Black's house. 

_If they hadn't gone into teaching, they could have taken up acting,_ Dylan thought to himself.

Meanwhile, Lupin said, still smiling cheerily, "Suffer away, Severus," and held up a sheet of parchment. Snape snatched it from his hand, scanned it, and scowled. "As you can see," Lupin continued, "the Headmaster has instructed me to accompany you two on your little jaunt. Besides, if Ariane is so worried about Dylan's safety, isn't it better for him to be protected by two wizards rather than one?"

"I don't need your help, werewolf!" Snape snarled, crumpling up the parchment.

"Oh, come on, Severus," Lupin cajoled. "I'll treat you to lunch."

Snape just sneered at him. "Perhaps you should be saving your salary, Lupin, to replace some of your wardrobe."

"I already have replaced most of my old, patched robes," Lupin said, spinning around to let the dark blue robe he was wearing billow out around him; he wore a brooch shaped like a wolf's head with tiny blue gems for eyes pinned at his throat. "Haven't you noticed?" Snape's face turned bright red, and Lupin grinned. "The Headmaster has been quite generous; I assure you I can afford to treat you and Dylan to lunch this once. And maybe dessert at Fortescue's afterwards?" he added in a coaxing tone. Snape seemed to waver for a moment. "And besides, you don't have a choice; Headmaster's orders, Severus."

"Oh, very well!" Snape huffed, and turned on his heel and began stalking down the corridor. Dylan and Lupin hastened to catch up with him, Lupin smiling and giving Dylan a wink as he did so.

They took a carriage, presumably drawn by the invisible Thestrals, to Diagon Alley. Dylan could not see them, because he had never seen anyone die, which he was sure would come as a shock to the Gryffindor boys who liked to call him "devil's spawn" and "Death Eater". Theodore had seen them, though, and said that they were ugly, nasty creatures. _Exactly the sort of pet Hagrid would like,_ Dylan thought to himself darkly. Then he wondered, not for the first time, whose death Theodore had witnessed...

Meanwhile, Dylan sat between Snape and Lupin, who kept up their little act even though there were no witnesses apart from Dylan and the Thestrals--which meant that Snape kept barking out insults at Lupin, who responded with cheerfully inane remarks.

"It's such a beautiful day, isn't it, Severus?" Lupin chirped.

"Not when I have to spend it with a werewolf," Snape said sullenly.

"Now, now, Severus," Lupin said sweetly, "you know the Headmaster is trying to promote tolerance among the students. You might consider our little outing as setting a good example for the students."

Snape snorted in disgust. "See how tolerant people will be if you go out during the full moon, on four legs and in a fur coat!"

"That reminds me," Lupin said, still smiling innocently, "did you do something different to the the Wolfsbane Potion this month?"

"No, why do you ask?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"Well, it just seemed to me that my coat was extra-thick and shiny this month," Lupin replied. "I wanted to thank you."

Snape spluttered incoherently for the next few minutes, and Dylan sighed. It was rather like being caught on the middle of a battlefield between two opposing armies.

Lupin noticed that sigh, chuckled softly, and winked at Dylan again. Then he winked at Snape. Snape turned red and spent the rest of the ride in sullen silence, while Lupin made small talk with Dylan about school. Lupin seemed not to notice that Dylan's responses were few and hesitant as he cast nervous glances at the sulking Potions Master, and Lupin seemed cheerfully content to carry on most of the conversation by himself. 

Only once did Snape show any sign of feeling something other than hatred for the werewolf. It happened when Lupin happened to glance out of the carriage window, and a ray of sunlight fell through it, falling on Lupin's face and hair, giving them a faint golden glow and almost halo-like effect. Lupin could not see, but Dylan happened to look over just at that moment and caught Snape smiling at Lupin with an almost tender look on his face. Then Snape saw Dylan staring, and scowled and looked away. Dylan sighed again, and wondered if he would ever understand Snape.

To Dylan's relief, they finally reached Diagon Alley and escaped the confines of the carriage. "I'll head over to the bookstore," Lupin said, "and meet the two of you at the Apothecary's afterwards." 

"Fine," Snape said curtly. "Come along, Rosier."

"Yes, sir." He followed Snape down the street until they reached a shop whose window read "Slug & Jiggers Apothecary". Dylan wrinkled his nose slightly as he walked through the door; the place smelt like rotten eggs and cabbage. Still, it was a fascinating place, full of all sorts of interesting things: the shelves were lined with jars full of various herbs, powders, and oddly-colored liquids, and there were bundles of feathers, fangs, and claws hanging from the ceiling. On a long counter sat two glass tanks; one was filled with a mess of small, brightly colored snakes, hissing and sliding over and under each other, and the second was filled with leeches.

There was an old man standing behind the counter. He was tall and thin, had beady dark eyes, and a lank fringe of gray hair hung from his balding head. "Hello, Professor Snape," he said, smiling widely and revealing a set of crooked, yellowing teeth. Then his eyes turned to Dylan and he said, "And who is your young friend?"

"This is my student, Dylan Rosier," Snape said. "Dylan, this is Mr. Jigger, the proprietor of this shop."

"Ah yes," Jigger said, leaning over the counter to give Dylan a closer look. "I should have noticed the family resemblance."

"Did you know my father?" Dylan asked eagerly.

Jigger laughed. "Not really, I met him only once, when he was a young lad, before he had even entered Hogwarts. He managed to tip over a tank full of frogs, and they were hopping all over the shop; I had the devil's time rounding them up again, and they knocked over a few jars of very expensive ingredients." The old man chuckled. "Despite all the ruckus he caused, he was a charming lad, and I couldn't bring myself to be angry at him. Besides, your grandparents paid for the damage, but they never again brought young Evan back to my shop! Your grandmother was quite a talented potion-maker, you know." He gave Dylan a speculative look. "Does the boy take after Lady Elin, Professor? Is that why you brought him with you today?"

"He does show quite a talent for Potions," Snape agreed, and Dylan felt a surge of pleasure and pride. Snape turned to Dylan and added, "Mr. Jigger's grandfather, Arsenius, wrote the textbook you've been using in my class, Magical Drafts and Potions."

"Really?" Dylan asked, looking quite impressed, which the shopkeeper seemed to find flattering.

"Yes, indeed," Jigger said proudly. "The Jiggers have always been apothecaries; it's a family tradition." Then, in a more brisk and businesslike tone, he said, "What can I do for you today, Professor?"

Snape pulled a list out of his pocket. "I need more valerian and lavender oil for my classes. Black hellebore and henbane. Also some dried saxifrage--"

"Roots or leaves?"

"Both. And devil's bit roots and woad leaves."

Jigger raised an eyebrow. "Trying something different this year, are you, Professor?"

"I thought I would provide my advanced classes with an unusual and challenging project this year, yes," Snape replied calmly. 

"Very well. Shall I put it on the Hogwarts account, Professor?"

"Yes, please."

Jigger weighed out and measured the various herbs, wrapped them up, and made a notation in a leather-bound notebook. "Ah yes, and your special order is ready, Professor. The gemstones and jobberknoll feathers you requested." He placed two more packages on the counter, and Dylan noticed that Snape paid for them himself, rather than billing it to the school. 

_Hmm, we used jobberknoll feathers in that mysterious potion Snape was working on last year that he wouldn't tell me anything about,_ Dylan thought to himself. _I wonder..._

"I also got in a few new items in you might like, Professor," Jigger said with a grin. "Cobra venom, Cockatrice feathers, and Runespoor eggs."

"Runespoor eggs?" Snape asked, his dark eyes lighting up. "And Cockatrice feathers? My, someone has been enterprising..."

"A foolhardy young wizard who fancies himself an adventurer," laughed Jigger. "I doubt he'll live to see old age, but I'll buy the fruits of his adventures for as long as he lasts. Well, are you interested, Professor?"

"I'll take the eggs, but I don't really need the feathers or venom..." 

But he sounded a little wistful, and Jigger jumped in with his sales pitch. "You may not need them NOW," he said, "but who knows when they might come in handy on short notice? Cockatrice feathers can be used in a petrification antidote, and you had a Basilisk problem a few years ago, didn't you? As for the venom--"

"I admit it would be tempting to poison a few of my students," Snape said dryly, "but I doubt the Headmaster would stand for that."

Jigger chuckled. "But it can always be used to brew anti-venom," he pointed out.

"How often are my student going to be bit by a cobra?" Snape retorted, but he looked thoughtful, and a bit concerned.

"It's always better to be safe than sorry, Professor," Jigger said smoothly.

They haggled over prices briefly, with Snape saying that he wasn't made out of money, and Jigger pointing out that he could just bill it to the school. "The Headmaster is generous, but there is a limit to my expense account," Snape said sourly. But he gave in without too much argument, and handed over a fat pouch of gold coins.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Professor," Jigger said, smiling widely as counted out the coins and placed them in his cash drawer.

"I'm sure it is," Snape said, still in that sour voice, and handed his packages to Dylan. "Here, make yourself useful, Rosier."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said, accepting the bundles without complaint. He smiled to himself a little as he thought, _So that's why Snape invited me along..._

"And be careful with those Runespoor eggs; they're very rare and--" Snape gave Jigger a pointed look. "--very expensive."

"There's an anti-breakage charm on the box, Professor," Jigger said in a soothing tone. "He can drop them from a ten-story building and they won't break." The apothecary grinned. "No extra charge."

"Very well," Snape said, looking somewhat mollified. "Come along, Rosier." 

Lupin walked up as they exited the shop. "Bought the whole store, have you, Severus?" he said with a grin as he eyed the packages Dylan was carrying.

"Merely a few necessities for class, Lupin," Snape said coldly--and not quite truthfully.

"Want some help with those?" Lupin asked Dylan kindly.

"No sir, I'm fine," Dylan replied. "They're a bit bulky, but not at all heavy."

"Where to next?" Lupin asked cheerfully.

"Well," Snape said, as they walked down the street, "I wanted to stop by Peregrine Potions--"

"Never heard of it," Lupin said.

"I'm not surprised," Snape sneered, "since you've been living in the woods for the past few years. They opened shop a couple of years ago. Their inventory isn't as extensive as Slug and Jiggers, but occasionally they have something interesting. And since Mr. Rosier is missing out on his Hogsmeade trip--" Snape almost smiled. "--I thought perhaps he might want to take a look at Gambol and Japes or Quality Quidditch Supplies."

"Can we, Professor?" Dylan asked eagerly.

"Yes, indeed," Snape said indulgently.

"I thought maybe we could visit Fred and George's shop, too," Lupin suggested.

"You mean the Weasley brats?" Snape asked with a scowl.

"Please don't call them brats, Severus. I hear their business is quite successful; it seems they have managed to channel their penchant for mischief into something productive."

"I don't care what you call it, I'm not--"

"Severus!" a woman's voice exclaimed, interrupting the two Professors' dialogue. Snape looked up, then stopped in his tracks as his jaw dropped and his face turned white--well, whiter than usual.

Dylan looked at the woman standing in front of them, and his own jaw dropped. He had seen her before in Snape's memories as a beautiful young woman with lush, dark hair and honey-gold skin. Her black hair was now laced with strands of white, and there were lines on her face where there had been none before, but she was still a handsome woman. Could this be...Snape's mother?!

"M...m...mo..." Snape stammered, then regained control of himself and said in a cold voice, "Lady Selima."

The woman raised her eyebrow, in much the same way Snape always did, and said in an equally cold voice, "So formal, Severus?"

Lupin cleared his throat; Snape ignored him. Lupin tried again, "Ahem. Perhaps you'd care to introduce us, Severus?"

Snape glared at him, but said, "Lupin, this is Selima Snape. Lady Selima, this is my colleague, Professor Lupin, and my student, Dylan Rosier."

Selima Snape eyed Lupin and Dylan with distaste. "The werewolf and Evan Rosier's son. Interesting company you keep, Severus."

Snape ground his teeth together, and his face took on a dangerous expression that would have sent his students running for cover, but Selima seemed unimpressed. "The Headmaster asked me to keep an eye on the werewolf," he growled through gritted teeth, "both to protect the populace from him, and him from the populace, as anti-non-human sentiment has been running rather high. As for the boy, he's my most talented student, and the son of an old friend."

"Is this your mother, Severus?" Lupin asked in a polite tone, but his eyes were gleaming with curiosity.

"Legally, no," Snape snarled. "Seeing as how I was disowned by my family years ago."

Selima sighed irritably. "That's your own doing, Severus--"

" _My_ doing?" Snape snapped. "You're the one who decided to jump to conclusions and disown me before I had even gone to trial! Which I never did, might I remind you?"

"Actually, that was your father," Selima corrected him coolly. "I did advise him to wait, but you know how he feels about protecting the family name. In any case, you didn't have to be so stubborn, Severus. If you had asked forgiveness, your father would have--"

"Ask forgiveness?" Snape said incredulously. "For what?! I haven't done anything wrong!"

"You may not have been convicted, Severus," Selima retorted, "but you are hardly an innocent."

"I'm not going to stand here and be insulted, Lady Selima," Snape said coldly. "Hell will freeze over before I go crawling back to the Snape house. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have some business to attend to--"

"You're the last Snape heir!" Selima cried, her voice suddenly filled with desperation and anger. "Are you just going to let the Snape line die out?"

A malicious smile spread slowly across Snape's face. "I will never produce an heir for the Snape house," he whispered, with an almost triumphant look in his eyes. "The Snape line may die out and rot for all I care."

"Severus, please!" Selima shouted. "Let's go somewhere and discuss this like adults--"

"Let's not!" Snape retorted.

"Ahem," Lupin said, clearing his throat again, and the two Snapes turned and glared at him, their angry black eyes nearly identical. Dylan gulped nervously--if one Snape was intimidating, two were even worse! But Lupin just said mildly, "Perhaps you should continue your discussion in a more private place. People are beginning to stare." And indeed, a number of passersby had stopped to watch their argument.

"Please, Severus," Selima said in a quieter but no less urgent voice. "Let us go and talk privately." She attempted a conciliatory smile, though it seemed that humility was as foreign to her as it was to her son. "I'll buy you lunch at the Leaky Cauldron."

"I can take Dylan shopping while you talk to your mother," Lupin volunteered.

"NO!" shouted Snape, a panicky look suddenly filling his eyes. "I...I...promised Ariane I wouldn't let Dylan out of my sight! I'm responsible for his well-being!"

*** 

_Please, _please_ don't leave me alone with my mother!_ Snape silently begged Lupin. Although he had not feared his mother the same way he had feared his father as a child, he had not seen his family in over fifteen years, and he had no idea what to say to her. He had intended to spend the rest of his life never seeing or speaking to his parents again, and the thought of having to confront his mother alone filled him with a sense of panic.

Lupin smiled at him, with an expression of mingled sympathy and mischief. "Very well, Severus. Since you feel so strongly about it." He turned to Selima. "I'm sure it will please you to know that Severus has a strong sense of honor and always takes his duties very seriously."

Snape flushed and glared at Lupin. _You don't need to go that far!_

Selima sighed. "Must we include strangers in a private family matter?"

"If you can't bear to be in the presence of a werewolf and the son of a Death Eater," Snape said coldly, "I would be quite happy to continue on my way--"

"Fine!" Selima said quickly. "They can come! But please, let us get off the street!"

_She must really be desperate,_ Snape thought in surprise. But then again, it was not really a surprise that Selima Snape would prefer the private humiliation of dining with a werewolf and the son of a deceased Death Eater to the public humiliation of having their argument be witnessed out on the open street. Appearances had always been everything to his mother.

_No matter how things are falling apart inside,_ Snape thought scornfully, _as long as everything looks perfect and pretty on the outside, that's all that matters to my mother._ Well, to his father, too, if truth be told; it was not so much the fact that he had joined the Death Eaters that had offended his parents, as it was the fact that he had been caught at it, and branded--in the court of public opinion, if not the court of law--as a member of disgraced, criminal organization. No doubt if Voldemort had won the war, his family would have welcomed him with open arms and loudly praised his decision to become a Death Eater. 

Snape would gladly have told his mother to bugger off, but she was clearly not going to let him go without an argument, and Lupin was right; they were attracting too much attention, and that was something Snape could not afford. He wanted to keep a low profile, in both the eyes of the public and the Dark Lord.

Snape sullenly followed his mother to the Leaky Cauldron, where she booked a private room. It was a little early for lunch, so she ordered a light meal of tea, scones, and dainty crustless finger sandwiches. Selima waited in silence until their server had left the room, took a sip of tea, then said, "It is your duty to provide the Snape house with an heir, Severus."

In Snape's experience, gathered through fifteen years of teaching at Hogwarts, teenage boys were perpetually hungry. However, Dylan--and Lupin, for that matter--seemed much more interested in the conversation than the food, watching with fascination as they nibbled idly on their sandwiches. "It ceased to be my duty when you and Father disowned me, Mother," Snape said coldly, spreading a blueberry scone with sweet Devonshire cream. Although Snape loved sweets, it tasted like cardboard to him--no fault of the baker, but rather it was the sight of his mother sitting in front of him that ruined his appetite.

"Well, you're calling me 'Mother' now rather than 'Lady Selima,'" Snape's mother said dryly. "I suppose that's an improvement." Snape flushed red with anger, and Selima sighed. "Come now, Severus, stop being so stubborn. If you are too proud to apologize, I can attempt to smooth things over with your father."

"My father go back on his word?" Snape snorted. "Hah!"

"Yes, all the Snape men are incredibly stubborn," Selima snapped. "But we are not getting any younger, Severus, and I think he might bend a little to assure himself of an heir."

"Go make another one," Snape suggested crudely, and it was his mother's turn to flush with rage--no, not just rage. Embarrassment and something else...frustration? "Ah, you have tried!" Snape said with a spiteful grin. "But there were no little Snapes forthcoming, were there?" Selima's face turned even redder, and her black eyes, so like his own, were blazing with wrath. Lupin and Dylan looked back and forth from mother to son nervously, but Snape ignored them. "Better watch out, dear Mother, perhaps Father will put you aside and take a younger bride in hopes of siring an heir!"

"Severus," Lupin said, a note of warning and concern in his voice.

"Your father would never dishonor me that way!" Selima snapped. "He knows that my family would never stand for it!"

Snape noted with bitter amusement that Selima mentioned only her family's influence, and not affection or loyalty, as an obstacle to a divorce and remarriage.

"Besides," Selima continued, "while barrenness is grounds for divorce, I am not barren. I did my duty and produced an heir--you. Now it is your turn to do your duty, Severus."

"Go to hell, Mother," Snape said, as Lupin looked increasingly worried. "I owe nothing to you or my father."

"You ungrateful wretch!" Selima cried. "You owe us everything!"

"What do I owe you, Mother?" Snape asked in a soft voice that his students would have recognized as the calm before the storm.

Selima, however, did not, and continued her tirade. "You owe me life, you spoilt brat! I gave birth to you!"

"Yes," Snape said, still in that dangerously quiet voice. "And your duties stopped there, it seems."

"What are you talking about?" Selima snapped. "I did my duty as a mother; your father and I provided you with food and clothing and a good education; I taught you how to behave properly in society though it seems you have forgotten those lessons--"

"You stood by and did nothing while your husband cast a Cruciatus Curse on your six-year old son," Snape whispered.

_"What?!"_ Dylan shrieked, choking on his tea. Lupin patted him on the back, looking sad but not surprised; he did not know the exact details, but Snape had once let it slip that his father had punished him with pain-giving curses as a child.

"I did nothing wrong," Selima said, looking sincerely confused. "It is a father's duty to punish his children when they misbehave; it was not my place to intervene."

"I was six years old!" Snape shouted, losing his temper and his control. "My great offense was to cry because I broke my favorite toy! Didn't it occur to you that a Cruciatus Curse might have been overkill?!"

"It was a weakened version of the spell," Selima protested, "and he only used it for about a minute. For Merlin's sake, Severus, is that what this is all about? You're refusing to do your family duty because of some childish punishment that happened thirty years ago?"

Snape was furious that she dismissed his old feelings of pain and betrayal as a childish, trivial grudge. "What about the time I snuck into Father's workroom and accidentally spilled a potion when I was eight? Or the time I put that curse on the neighbor's child and almost got barred from Hogwarts? Or--" 

"It might have seemed harsh at the time, Severus," Selima interrupted, "but you learned your lesson, didn't you? You never had another temper tantrum. You never again went into your father's workroom without permission. You never..." She sighed a little. "Well, you never hexed the neighbor's boy again, at least, although you did get into trouble for hexing those Gryffindor boys. The point is, Severus, that your father's punishments were effective. It is not the Slytherin way to coddle our children--"

"Tell that to the Malfoys or the Parkinsons!" Snape retorted. "But that's not the point!" 

"What is the point, Severus?" Selima asked impatiently.

"It seems to me," Lupin said quietly, "that the point is, your husband used an Unforgivable Curse to torture his son, and you did not try to stop him."

"You have no right to sit in judgment over me, werewolf!" Selima snapped.

"Even a wolf protects its cubs better than you did your child," Lupin said, holding her gaze.

"This is the company you keep now, Severus?" Selima asked, pointing accusingly at Lupin. "You would rather associate with beasts than with your own family?"

Snape wished he could tell her that he and Lupin were lovers; he would have loved to have seen the expression on her face. Unfortunately, he still needed to keep his cover. "Everyone at Hogwarts knows that I despise Lupin," he said coldly. "I only associate with him because I cannot avoid it, as we are both teachers there, thanks to Dumbledore's softheartedness. But yes, Mother, as much as I hate him, I prefer the werewolf's company to yours."

Selima was rendered speechless with fury for a few minutes. Although he was not hungry, Snape ate a sandwich, feigning calmness as he forced his face to remain expressionless, because he knew it would irritate his mother even more.

"Is it worth it?" Selima finally asked, when she had regained control over herself. "To live in exile, to work at a menial job, just to spite your father and I?"

"I'd hardly call a teaching position at Hogwarts menial labor," Snape said dryly. "It's one of the most prestigious wizarding schools in the world, and I earn a decent salary--"

"But it's nowhere near so prestigious and well-paying a job as, say, a Ministry position--your dear friend Lucius Malfoy never got you a job in the Ministry, did he, even though you risked your life and reputation on his behalf to join--"

"Whatever I did, I did for myself, not Malfoy!" Snape snapped. "And if I were you, I would be careful about bandying that name about, Mother!"

"I know better than you how dangerous Lucius Malfoy can be, Severus," Selima whispered, a hard and bitter look in her eyes.

"I seriously doubt that," Snape said.

"It's very convenient, isn't it," Selima continued softly, "how Lucius's parents died during the height of the war. Ah, I see I have your attention now, Severus."

"There was a plague," Snape said slowly, "an outbreak of fever. Many people died--"

"Do you really think it was sheer coincidence, Severus? Whatever other faults you may have, you were never stupid."

"Why would Lucius want to...ah...eliminate his father? The elder Malfoys were said to be supporters of...Lucius's patron."

"His parents were reluctant to commit fully to the war," Selima said. "Yes, they liked the idea of the purebloods being in charge of everything--who wouldn't? But they were aware of the dangers as well. They were not so enthusiastic as their son; they were afraid that...the other side...would prevail in the end. But they died, and Lucius became Lord of the Malfoy estate, and threw the family's full support behind...his patron." Selima waited for a response, but Snape remained silent, so she continued, "I did not much care for Lucius's father, I must admit, but his mother was my friend. Lucius was always an ambitious young man, but even I did not realize how far he would go to fulfill that ambition."

Snape remained silent. If his mother was right, that meant that Lucius had murdered not only his own parents, but also a number of innocent people to make it look like a real illness. Fatal viruses and such could be magically created, but they were rarely used because they were notoriously difficult to control and were likely to spread farther than the wielder might wish. Snape knew that Lucius would care nothing for the innocent bystanders, but could he really have killed his own parents in cold blood? 

_Probably,_ Snape decided. Aloud, he said, "Well, Father always said that sentiment was for the weak. Lucius was never one to let sentiment stand in the way of his ambition." Selima glared at him, and Snape felt a twinge of malicious satisfaction at being able to throw his father's words back in her face.

"Are you enjoying this, Severus?" she asked accusingly.

"Not at all, Mother," he replied coolly. "You were the one who wanted to talk. I would like nothing better than to be on my way and go back to my menial job at Hogwarts."

Selima blinked and looked at Lupin and Dylan as if she had forgotten they were there. "I hope your...friends..." She made the word "friends" sound like an insult. "...can keep their counsel, Severus."

"Mr. Rosier knows how to keep his mouth shut," Snape said curtly. Strange, it was very unlike her to forget herself and speak so freely in front of strangers, but he supposed it was a sign of her desperation. And of course, he himself had lost control; he had not meant to bring up the past, of how his father had used the Cruciatus Curse on him, at least not in front of Dylan. "And the werewolf will do so as well," Snape continued out loud, "if he wants me to keep making the Wolfsbane Potion for him." He glared at Lupin.

Lupin just smiled serenely at him and said, "I would never dream of divulging the details of a private family discussion, Severus."

Selima stared at Lupin suspiciously for a moment, then said dismissively, "Well, it's not like anyone would take the word of a werewolf over that of a Snape, anyway."

Snape clenched his fists beneath the table. _When the war is over, if we should survive, I shall announce to the world that Lupin is my lover, and tell my mother just why I will never give the Snape house an heir,_ he thought fiercely.

"What do you want me to say, Severus?" Selima demanded. "Do you want me to say that I was a bad mother, to apologize for not interfering when your father punished you? Fine. I'm a bad mother," she said curtly. "I'm sorry."

"I see that all Snapes are bad at apologizing," Lupin muttered under his breath.

"Oh, shut up, Lupin," Snape said automatically, but he almost smiled, despite his anger at his mother. He felt Lupin's hand brush against his for just a moment beneath the table. That made his anger recede further, and helped him to calm down.

"Look, Severus," Selima said in a frustrated voice, "however you believe your father and I have wronged you, haven't you punished us enough? Return home, Severus, and take your rightful place as heir to the Snape estate."

"Never," Snape said passionately.

"I will get your father to revoke the ban!" Selima cried. "You won't have to ask forgiveness!"

"I told you before, I will never give the Snape house an heir. Tell Father to adopt one if he must, some cousin or such; there must be some young relative with Snape blood who would love to inherit the title."

"There is no clear line of succession!" Selima shouted. "Your father had no brothers or sisters; his next closest relatives are distant cousins, none of whom bear the Snape name, and who have only the slightest trace of Snape blood!"

"That's not my problem," Snape said coldly as he rose from his seat. Lupin and Dylan followed suit. "Thank you for lunch, Mother. I wish I could say it's been a pleasure, but that would be a lie. Come along, Rosier."

"Is it because you don't want to marry?" Selima shouted, and Snape stopped halfway to the door. "You never did show any interest in girls," she added, in a quieter voice. Snape slowly turned to glare at her. "You're a fool if you think that matters, Severus. Marry some girl and get an heir on her, and you'll be free to do as you please."

"An interesting view of marriage," Lupin murmured.

"I wasn't talking to you, werewolf!" Selima snapped.

"Insulting the werewolf is my prerogative, Mother," Snape said. "Not yours. And I hate to say it, but he has a point. Is that the arrangement you and Father had?"

"Only the lower classes can afford to marry for love," Selima said contemptuously. "And what is love but a flame that burns brightly, but quickly dies out? Power is what lasts, my son. I hope you are not refraining from your duty out of some foolish romantic notions; I thought I taught you better than that."

"I will never marry," Snape said quietly. "For power or for love. Good day, Mother."

"Will you turn your back on power and wealth to go back to some teaching position?!" Selima screamed. "You could rival Malfoy in power, surpass him even, now that he's a fugitive!" But this time Snape kept walking and did not look back. 

Lupin paused to say softly, "You are wrong, Lady Selima. It is love that lasts, not power." Then he left, with a wide-eyed Dylan following close behind, as Selima Snape stared after them in anger and disbelief.

*** 

"Did...did your father really--?" Dylan asked timidly as they left the Leaky Cauldron.

"Not here, Rosier," Snape said curtly. "Not in public."

"Why don't we stop by Gambol and Japes, or the Weasleys' store?" Lupin suggested. "We could all use a laugh." He hesitated, looking at Snape with concern. "Or perhaps you'd prefer to return to school now..."

"No," Snape said. He didn't really want to return to school, because he had no classes to teach, and he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts right now, nor did he feel like discussing them with Lupin at the moment, although he still wanted his lover's company. "Fine," Snape said. "Let's go to Weasleys' Wheezes or Sneezes, or whatever the bloody shop is called." Maybe the irritating Weasley boys would at least take his mind off things.

"Really?" Lupin and Dylan chorused, and Snape almost smiled, though he quickly turned it into a frown, for the benefit of the passersby.

"Why not?" he sighed. "My mood couldn't possibly get any worse."

A bell rang as Lupin pushed in the door of the shop, and Fred--or was it George?--said cheerfully, "Welcome to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes! We have all manner of--Professor Lupin?" He broke off and said in a more normal--though no less enthusiastic--voice, "It's good to see you!" Then Snape and Dylan walked in, and Fred's--or George's--mouth dropped open. "Professor Snape?!"

"Good to see you, too, Fred," Lupin said, laughing a little at the expression of shock on his face. "It is Fred, isn't it?"

"Y-yes, sir," Fred stammered. "Uh...um..."

"Severus and I are running some errands for the Headmaster," Lupin explained, with a twinkle in his eyes. "I insisted on stopping by, although I'm sure Severus would much rather be back at the Apothecary's."

"Yes, well, I've been designated your keeper for the day, Lupin," Snape grumbled. "Can't let you off your leash."

George emerged from the back room carrying a stack of boxes. "Ah, customers," he started to say, then dropped the boxes when he saw Lupin and Snape.

Snape looked down at the spilled boxes and said, "I hope those don't contain explosives, Mr. Weasley."

"Ah...no, sir," George said weakly. "Th-they're Skiving Snackboxes."

"Oh, great," Dylan said. "Can I have one?"

"Uh, sure," George replied, still in a state of shock. He bent down to pick up the boxes.

"Here, let me help you," Dylan volunteered.

"Thanks," George said, then looked at Dylan more closely as they gathered up the boxes. "Say...I remember you; you were on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Rosier, right?"

"Yes," said Dylan, handing him the boxes he'd picked up. "No hard feelings, I hope."

Fred and George looked at him suspiciously. "I'm surprised to see a Slytherin in a shop run by a couple of Gryffindors," George said.

Dylan shrugged. "Your shop is famous in the school," he said with a smile. "A lot of the Slytherins would like to come here, but they're afraid of what Draco might say."

"Famous, huh?" George asked, looking pleased. 

"Aren't you afraid of what Draco might say?" Fred asked, still looking suspicious.

"But I didn't come here on my own," Dylan pointed out innocently. "Professor Lupin made me come--"

"Twisted your arm," Lupin laughed.

"--and as long as I'm here, I might as well look around, right?"

George laughed, gave Dylan one of the Skiving Snackboxes, and placed the rest on a shelf. "Well, I do remember that you were trying to get Malfoy to shut up before that fight broke out after the game. So I suppose you're all right. But that song was a dirty trick."

"It wasn't my idea," Dylan said apologetically. "I know what it's like to have people say nasty things about my family; I wouldn't do that to someone else."

Fred and George looked a little abashed; their brother, along with many of the other Gryffindor boys, had been one of those who had talked loudly of Dylan being a Death Eater's son, and called him some less than flattering names.

"Well, a customer's a customer," Fred decided. "We'll take your money, Slytherin or Gryffindor."

"How enlightened of you," Snape muttered.

"It's a start, Severus," Lupin said with a grin. "Inter-House cooperation."

Snape just looked around the shop with a disgruntled air. "So this is what you gave up school for?"

"Business is booming, sir," George said cheerfully. "Care for a Canary Cream?"

"No thank you," Snape said coldly.

"I'm so glad that you're doing well," Lupin said. "And glad to see that you've recovered from your little accident."

The boys flushed. "Mum told you about that, did she?" Fred asked sheepishly.

"But if not for us, Dad might be in prison right now!" George pointed out. "How's Tonks doing?"

"As well as can be expected," Lupin replied. "She's staying with Sirius until the investigation is completed."

Fred elbowed his brother in the side, giving Dylan a significant look, and George fell silent. Snape repressed a smile; the boys did not know that Dylan had the trust of the Order--well, the trust of some of the Order, at least: Dumbledore, Branwen, Goewin, Mathias, Lupin, and himself. In Snape's mind, those were the only members who really mattered. Dylan pretended to pay no notice to the conversation as he browsed in the shop, but Snape knew he was aware of everything that was being said.

"I'll get these," Dylan said, taking the Skiving Snackbox and a box of Ton Tongue Toffees up to the counter.

"Mr. Rosier," Snape said in a threatening voice, "if I catch you using one of those sweets to get out of a test--"

"They're not for me, Professor," Dylan protested. "They're for a friend."

"Remind me to keep an eye on Mr. Pierce," Snape said to Lupin, then smiled dryly at the expression on Dylan's face. "Come now, Mr. Rosier, I hope you don't think I'm stupid; who else would they be for? Nott and Zabini have too much good sense to pull a stunt like that."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said weakly. "I mean, no, sir, of course I don't think you're stupid--"

"Please don't scare off our customer, Professor," Fred said to Snape, then paled as Snape glared at him.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Severus," Lupin said. Snape turned his glare on the werewolf, who of course simply smiled at him without the slightest bit of fear.

"Fine," Snape sighed. "Go ahead and buy them, Rosier, but warn your friend that he'd better not get sick in Potions class, or I'll be testing all your classmates' potions on him for the rest of the year."

"Damien would never use the sweets to get out of Potions class, sir," Dylan said with absolute honesty, and paid for his purchases.

Snape of course noticed that Dylan had said nothing about their other classes. "Well, if the other teachers can't tell when a student is faking it, I suppose that's their problem," he said with a smile, shocking the Weasley brothers. Then he shocked them even further by picking up a Skiving Snackbox and placing it on the counter.

"S-sir?" George stammered.

"I thought you said you'd take anyone's money," Snape said, raising his eyebrows. "Even a Slytherin's."

"F-five G-galleons, sir," George said, looking faint. 

Snape handed him the coins, then noticed that Lupin and Dylan looked just as shocked as the Weasleys. He smiled evilly and explained, "I'm going to give this to Madam Pomfrey, so she can learn to distinguish between a real illness and a Weasley-induced one."

Fred groaned. "There goes business!"

Lupin laughed and bought a Headless Hat and a fake wand to console him.

"What on earth do you intend to do with those, Lupin?" Snape asked.

"I thought Albus might like them," Lupin replied. "I'll save them for his Christmas present."

Snape shook his head, but left the shop feeling considerably better than he had when he had walked in. Lupin smiled at him, and Snape was hard-pressed not to smile back.

"See, I told you a trip to the Weasleys' shop would cheer you up," Lupin said.

"No need to look so smug, Lupin," Snape retorted, but he didn't deny it. "And didn't you promise to treat us to lunch? Well, my mother already did, I suppose, but I seem to recall you mentioning something about Fortescue's..."

"I am a man of my word, Severus," Lupin said cheerfully, and the trio headed to the ice cream parlor for sundaes.

*** 

"Thank you, Professor Snape, Professor Lupin," Dylan said as they returned to the carriage later. "I had a good time."

"You're welcome," Lupin said with a smile, and Snape just flushed and grunted. "You can stop the grumpy act, you know," Lupin said. "No one can overhear us in the carriage."

"So who says it's an act?" Snape said sourly.

"I do," Lupin said. He took out his wand and uttered a quick charm; the windows turned dark and opaque. Lupin leaned over and kissed Snape on the cheek.

"LUPIN!" Snape howled. "Not in front of the boy!"

Dylan had ended up with a window seat this time, with Snape in the middle. He blushed and looked out the window even though he couldn't see through it.

"But you're the one who told me Slytherins are blase about such things," Lupin pointed out.

"They're not blase about their teachers making out in carriages in front of them!" Snape bellowed.

Lupin giggled and gave Snape a wicked look. "You're lucky Dylan's here, Severus--or maybe I should say, unlucky?" He leaned over and whispered in Snape's ear, "Perhaps we should take a carriage ride again sometime, just the two of us." Snape's face turned bright red.

"Behave yourself!" Snape snapped.

Lupin chuckled, but obeyed, and after a brief silence, Dylan asked hesitantly, "Is it safe to talk now?"

"Yes," Snape said--reluctantly, because he knew what was coming next.

"Did your father really use a Cruciatus Curse on you?"

"Yes," Snape replied shortly. "But I don't want to talk about it." Lupin reached over and held his hand, and Snape did not object, despite the fact that the boy was watching.

Dylan was silent for a moment. "Is that why you won't return to your family?"

"Part of the reason," Snape admitted. "The other part..." Lupin smiled at him, then snuggled close and laid his head on Snape's shoulder.

"Oh," said Dylan, blushing again. "Of course. You can't marry."

Snape heaved a slightly exasperated sigh, but he didn't push Lupin away; it was comforting, if a little embarrassing, to have the werewolf curled up against his side. He put an arm around Lupin, and his lover sighed contentedly. "Yes," he said dryly. "It's not safe, you see, to make a werewolf jealous."

"We're very possessive," Lupin agreed.

_Did Snape just make a joke?_ Dylan wondered. Then again, maybe not...there was a certain gleam in Lupin's pale blue eyes that said he was serious, even though there was laughter in his voice. "Is it true, what your mother said, that the purebloods don't marry for love?" Dylan asked. "My parents did, after all."

"Yes, and caused a great scandal," Snape reminded him. "It caused your mother's family to disown her."

"Did my father's parents love each other?"

Snape thought about that. "I don't know," he said, "but they seemed quite fond of each other. They probably had an arranged marriage, but sometimes affection can grow out of such a union. But for the most part, love doesn't enter into it. A pureblood marriage is based on wealth and status and political alliances." He frowned as a thought occurred to him. "Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange fell in love while we were at Hogwarts, but fortunately for them, they came from families of similar rank and background, so their families were not opposed to their marriage, and indeed welcomed it. But cases like that are very rare."

"What about my mother's parents?" Dylan wondered. "Mother says her father died when she was very young, so she doesn't really remember him."

"Well, I'm the same age as your mother," Snape pointed out acerbically, "so I wouldn't remember him either." 

"Severus," Lupin said in a chiding tone.

Snape relented. "But one hears gossip, of course, and my mother kept tabs on all the pureblood families. Your maternal grandfather was a younger son of a low-ranking pureblood family who was entitled to no inheritance of his own; not many men would be willing to take their wife's name, and the Donner title is passed down through the female line. He gave up his name in order to marry into a more powerful family, and many of his peers scorned him for it."

"So he married for power," Dylan said.

"Most likely," Snape said. "Though of course the gossip was slightly slanted and rather malicious. No doubt Mathias could give you a more accurate picture. But according to the gossip, he was a meek and quiet man who always deferred to his wife, and I believe it; Deirdre Donner would never have married anyone who would challenge her authority. He had a weak heart and died young, according to the healers. The gossips joked that he died to escape his domineering wife."

"How cruel," Lupin murmured.

"Yes, well, my mother and her friends were not exactly known for their compassion, Lupin. In case that wasn't obvious from the brief time you spent with her."

"It's sad," Lupin said. "Generations of children being brought up in such cold households, being taught that love is a frivolous nuisance. My family was poor, but they loved me, and I would not trade that for all the gold in the world."

Dylan fell silent, thinking that he was grateful that his mother--whatever mistakes she and his father had made in their youth--had brought him up with love. _I would not trade that, either,_ he thought. _I would rather live in exile and disgrace with my mother all my life, than live with a family like the Snapes or the Malfoys._ Suddenly he yawned; it had been a long day. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat, thinking that he would rest for just a little while...

Some subtle motion of the carriage as it moved caused the sleeping boy to slide across the seat into Snape. Dylan stirred slightly, but did not wake. Thus, Snape found himself with his lover curled up against him on one side, and the boy that was the closest thing he would ever have to a son on the other; both looked comfortable and perfectly content--in fact, it seemed that Lupin had fallen asleep as well.

_I'm the one who should be exhausted,_ Snape thought to himself with ironic humor, _after that scene with my mother._ He shook his head slightly, but smiled down tenderly at the pair, and found that he was no longer so upset about the confrontation with his mother. In a strange sort of way, it had been satisfying to finally speak his mind to her. Of course, she still didn't understand why he was so angry with her and Father, or why he would give up his position as the Snape heir to become a schoolteacher, and probably never would, but at this moment, he felt more pity than resentment. 

_She will never understand,_ he thought, _what it's like to be loved by someone like Lupin, who cares nothing about House or status, who loves me despite my bad temper and petty jealousies. She will never know the joy and terror of having a child look at you with complete trust in his eyes, believing that you will make everything all right, when you have no such faith in yourself._ He gently kissed the top of Lupin's head, and because there was no one there to witness it, Dylan's as well. _You can keep your title and wealth and lands, Mother; this is all the treasure I need._

*** 

While Snape, Lupin, and Dylan were on their excursion to Diagon Alley, most of the other students went to Hogsmeade, except for the glum few whose parents had revoked their permission, due to the recent escape of the Death Eaters from Azkaban. Serafina Avery had permission to go to Hogsmeade, but chose to stay behind at school as she usually did.

"Crazy girl," said Damien, shaking his head.

Theodore shrugged. "She'll probably spend the whole day in the library. That's all she really cares about, anyway, is books. It's not like she's interested in buying magic tricks at Zonko's."

"But who could pass up a chance to go to Honeydukes?" Damien wondered out loud, then grinned. "Plus it's a prime opportunity to do a little flirting."

"She definitely doesn't care about that!" Theodore said dryly.

As an added precaution, due to safety concerns expressed by the parents, three of the teachers--Hagrid, McGonagall, and Flitwick--accompanied the students as chaperones. They split up into three groups; the Slytherins and half of the Ravenclaws found themselves with Hagrid as an escort. 

"So where to first?" Hagrid asked cheerfully. "Honeydukes?"

The Ravenclaws responded enthusiastically. The Slytherins remained silent, looking to Draco, as if waiting to follow his lead. He sneered a little, but made no objection, and the group headed to the candy store. Draco loaded up on candy for himself, and even remembered his promise to pick up something for Dylan. He bought a big box of fudge and handed it to Damien. 

"Here," he said carelessly. "Give this to Rosier."

"Uh, thanks," Damien said, a little surprised that Malfoy had actually followed through on his promise. "I'm sure Dylan will appreciate it."

After Honeydukes, they stopped at Zonko's, then headed to The Three Broomsticks, although Hagrid cast a wistful glance in the direction of The Hog's Head. "Just the sort of low-class place someone like him would patronize," Draco sneered. 

However, despite the insults he muttered behind Hagrid's back, Draco still seemed to be in a good mood--he had been ever since the prison break. The odd result was that he was behaving almost nicely to people, if in a rather high-handed and patronizing way. As if granting them a great boon, Draco invited Damien and Blaise to sit with him and his in-crowd: Crabbe, Goyle, Theodore, Pansy Parkinson, and Millicent Bulstrode. The two boys, their survival instincts well-honed by spending the past four or five years living in Slytherin House, hid their nervousness and acted appropriately flattered. Still behaving in a lordly fashion, Draco treated the whole table to a round of butterbeer.   "Poor Dylan," Millicent said, "stuck spending his holiday with Snape."

"Yeah, it's not so great being the teacher's pet sometimes," Damien agreed. 

"We bought some candy for him at Honeydukes," Pansy said, "since he couldn't come to Hogsmeade with us."

Draco was starting to scowl, and the girls hastily began flattering him and flirting with him, and the smug smile returned to his face. Theodore's eyes narrowed slightly; he had noticed just a touch of fear in the girls' faces before they began simpering at Draco. Although they had always deferred to Draco, they had never seemed to be particularly intimidated by him before, but now it seemed that they, like almost everyone else in Slytherin House, were afraid of him. It was probably significant that their parents had been sympathizers of Voldemort's but had never actually joined the Death Eaters. 

Theodore glumly took a sip from his tankard as he wondered if this was a sign of how the war was going to go. How many of the pureblood families would rush to ingratiate themselves with the Dark Lord, how many would fight against him, and how many would simply stand by and wait, hoping to align themselves with the winning side? From what his parents had said, Theodore doubted that the Dark Lord would show much mercy to those who tried to remain neutral. 

"Famous Harry Potter" (as Snape sometimes sarcastically referred to him) had been hailed as the hero and savior of the wizarding world, but Theo didn't see how a teenaged boy could possibly be a match for the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. _If Potter's supposed to save us, then we're all dead,_ Theodore thought gloomily. _He's not even that great a wizard; it's not like he's incompetent, but Malfoy, Granger, and even Blaise and I all outrank him in the class standings. Sure, he's a star Quidditch player, but I doubt that will be a lot of help on the battlefield..._

Meanwhile Dylan's friend Lisa Turpin was smiling and waving at Damien from a nearby table where the Ravenclaws were sitting. He grinned and walked over.

"Where's Dylan?" Lisa asked. "Didn't he come with you today?"

"No, didn't you hear?" Damien replied. "He's gone to run errands with Professor Snape in Diagon Alley; it's not like you can turn down a request from the Head of Slytherin House."

"What?" a horrified Padma Patil exclaimed. "He had to give up his Hogsmeade day to help Snape?! That's not fair!"

"Well, his mum revoked her Hogsmeade permission, so he'd be stuck at school, anyway..."

Draco frowned a little, and so did Pansy and Millicent, as Damien chatted and flirted with the two Ravenclaw girls. _Idiot!_ Theodore thought. _Put a pretty girl in front of him and all the common sense flies right out of his head!_ Draco laughed at a snide comment Pansy made about the Ravenclaws, and Theodore used that distraction to hiss in Blaise's ear, "Go get Pierce back here before Malfoy has a fit!" Blaise nodded and got up. Just then, the Gryffindors walked in, and Draco nodded at Crabbe and Goyle. The two boys grinned and sauntered across the room.

Crabbe accidentally-on-purpose bumped into Ron Weasley and spilled a tankard of butterbeer on him. "Oops, sorry," he said, in a tone that did not sound apologetic at all. 

"Watch where you're going, you stupid git!" Weasley snapped.

"Why don't _you_ watch where _you're_ going, git!" Crabbe snapped back. Pretty soon Crabbe and Goyle were getting into a shoving match with the Gryffindor boys, and it looked to be escalating into a full-scale brawl. Hermione Granger was screeching at them to stop, but neither side paid her any heed. Alarmed, Hagrid and McGonagall, who had just walked in the door, hurried over to break up the scuffle.

Draco smiled triumphantly and grabbed Theodore's arm. "Come with me, Nott," he said, dragging him out the back entrance.

"B-but...we're not supposed to go out alone," Theodore protested weakly.

"We're Death Eaters, Nott," Malfoy said dismissively. "The rules don't apply to us."

_We're not Death Eaters yet,_ Theodore thought, but did not contradict Draco out loud.

*** 

From the Ravenclaw table, Blaise saw them leave, and quietly slipped out after them.

*** 

Theodore reluctantly followed Draco out of the inn and down a narrow alley; at the end of the alley waited two cloaked and hooded figures. One of them threw back his hood, revealing long, white-blond hair.

"Dad!" Draco shouted, and ran forward to embrace his father.

"F-father," Theodore stammered, as the second figure pushed back his hood to reveal his face.

"Happy to see me, Theodore?" Thaddeus Nott said, the malicious glint in his eyes and the sneering twist to his lips as he smiled saying that he already knew the answer to that question.

"Delighted, Father," Theodore said, fighting to keep his voice and face expressionless.

Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy patted his son on the back indulgently for a moment, then said in a cool voice, "Control yourself, my son. This is not fitting behavior for a young man of your rank."  
 "Y-yes, sir," Draco said, hastily releasing his father, and swiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. Lucius frowned a little, and Draco quickly got himself under control. "I apologize, Father. I was just so happy to see you."

"Of course," Lucius said with a smile, and Draco looked relieved. "I am pleased to see you too, Draco, but a good Slytherin remains in control of his emotions at all times."

"Yes, sir," Draco said, schooling his face into a cool but respectful expression of attentiveness.

"And I am afraid we have little time to waste celebrating this reunion," Lucius continued. "I--"

"Caught this one snooping around," a third cloaked figure interrupted; Theodore recognized the voice as his father's friend, Andreas Avery. To his horror, Avery was dragging forward a very frightened-looking Blaise.

The other two men took out their wands. "We can't let anyone know we were seen here," said Lucius. "It's a pity, but we'll have to--"

"No," Theodore said, fighting to keep his voice cool and unconcerned. It would be very, very bad if either his father or Lucius Malfoy should discover how much he cared about Blaise. "He's a Slytherin, one of us; he's all right."

Lucius turned to Draco. "A friend of yours?"

Draco gave Theodore a quick, calculating look, then replied, "Yeah, sort of. He hangs around with Dylan and Theodore."

"What is your name, child?" Lucius asked, in a deceptively gentle voice, but his gray eyes were hard and cold.

"B-Blaise Z-Zabini, sir," Blaise stuttered.

"Zabini, hmm?" Lucius mused. "Once a proud and noble family, fallen on hard times. Do you know why, Blaise?"

"B-bad investments, my father said," Blaise replied hesitantly.

"They chose not to support us," Lucius said in a quiet and malevolent voice. "They chose not to support their rightful Lord, who would elevate the pureblood families to the greatness they deserve. Too soft, too afraid to get their hands dirty...are you wiser than your parents, Blaise? At least it seems that you have chosen to ally yourself with the proper friends..."

"Yes, sir," Blaise said quickly. He was no fool, he would tell Malfoy whatever he wanted to hear; Theodore just hoped that he could make it sound convincing. "I've tried to make the right friends." A note of contempt entered his voice as he added, "And stay away from all the Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers." Lucius Malfoy smiled approvingly. "I may be poor, but I am still a pureblood and a Slytherin," Blaise said proudly, holding his head up high. "I would never betray you; certainly not to the Gryffindors and their ilk."

Theodore was proud of him; he had set aside his fear and sounded almost as haughty and lordly as Draco did; even Draco looked a bit impressed.

Lucius laughed, but it was not a reassuring sound. "Almost, I believe you, child! But most people will say anything to save their lives."

"We should just kill him and be done with it," Theodore's father said impatiently. "We can't take the chance that he'll tell anyone he's seen us."

"Blaise can keep his mouth shut," Theodore said coolly. "I'll see to it. It would be far more suspicious if a student turned up missing or dead, so soon after your escape."

"He has a point, Thaddeus," Lucius conceded. "Draco? Can you control your...friend?"

_Please, Draco,_ Theodore silently begged, although he forced his face to remain calm and expressionless. _Help me save Blaise and I'll do anything you want; I'll be your slave for life--just don't let them kill him!_

Perhaps Draco picked up on his unspoken plea; perhaps he was merely thinking that it could be useful for Blaise and Theodore to owe him a favor. But in any case, he answered, "Yes, Father. I am in control of Slytherin House, and Zabini will do what I tell him to. Isn't that right, Zabini?"

"Yes, Draco," Blaise replied meekly.

"I still think we should kill him, if you ask me," Thaddeus muttered.

"Well, I didn't ask your opinion, now did I?" Lucius snapped, then turned to Draco and Theodore. "I'm holding you two personally responsible for his behavior, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Father."

"Yes, sir."

"Still," Lucius said, "I think we should take some precautions, just to be on the safe side. A Memory Charm should suffice, I think. Will you do the honors, Thaddeus?"

"Obliviate!" Thaddeus Nott shouted, pointing his wand at Blaise before Theodore could object, and Blaise fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Is the spell supposed to knock him out like that?" Draco asked dubiously, looking down at his housemate with curiosity and just a touch of concern. "He's not going to go balmy like Lockhart, is he?"

"Subtlety is not your strong point, Thaddeus," Lucius said, frowning a little. "I merely wanted you to erase his memory of this meeting, not turn the boy into a vegetable."

"He'll be all right when he wakes up," Theodore's father said, unconcerned. "And if not, no big loss. He's only a Zabini, after all."

"The Zabinis were once accomplished wizards," Lucius said coldly. "The boy might yet turn out to have some talent, and if so, that talent should be put to good use on behalf of our Lord. I will be quite cross with you, Thaddeus, if you have wiped out his mind." Thaddeus scowled, but said nothing. "We should not linger any longer," Lucius said to his son. "Give this to your mother, and this to Professor Snape," he said, handing Draco two envelopes sealed with wax. "You are not under any circumstances to open them yourself, do you understand me, Draco?"

"Yes, sir," Draco said sullenly.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you to hand Snape's message to him in private. And don't send your mother's letter to her by owl; the Ministry will probably be monitoring the mail service. Hand it to her in person the next time she visits; Slytherin should have a Quidditch match coming up soon, anyway."

"Yes, Father."

"And this is for you," Lucius said with a smile, handing him a small, cloth-wrapped parcel. Draco folded back the cloth, revealing a small mirror in an ornate silver frame. "If I need to contact you, I'll do so through this mirror. Keep it in a safe place, and check regularly for messages from me."

"Yes, Father!" Draco said more enthusiastically, his sullen expression replaced by one of pride. He wrapped the mirror back up and tucked it into a pocket on the inside of his robes. "Can I use it to contact you, too?"

"It only works one way," Lucius replied, a stern look on his face. "I will be very busy in our Master's service, and I can't have you bothering me with trivial matters." Draco's expression turned a little sulky. "And besides, it's safer if I contact you. It might be dangerous if you tried to disturb me while I am in the middle of...ah...a sensitive operation."

"Yes, Father," Draco said, looking placated, if not exactly happy about it.

Lucius gave Blaise's unconscious form one last, thoughtful look. "And I want you to keep an eye on the children from the lower houses, those who still have pure blood, but little wealth or influence; we may find some talented recruits eager to advance themselves. The Dark Lord will reward those who serve him well, and there will be many estates up for grabs once we get rid of all the Muggle-lovers."

"Yes, Father!" Draco said eagerly, looking proud once again. 

"Don't mention the Death Eaters by name," Lucius cautioned, but he looked amused. "Just hint; that will be enough. I merely want to take note of who might be useful to our cause. And it would be helpful if you could get an idea of which families will support our Lord and which will side with Dumbledore or try to play neutral."

"You can count on me, Dad!" 

"Very well," Lucius said. "Give my regards to your mother. If all goes well, soon I can come out of hiding and take my rightful place once more."

"Yes, Father," Draco said, practically glowing with happiness and pride.

"You go ahead, Lucius," Thaddeus said. "I'll be along in a minute; I'd like a word with my son in private."

Lucius nodded, smiling a little at the terrified expression on Theodore's face, then Disapparated. Avery grinned maliciously. "Tell Serafina that her daddy will be back home soon," he said, "and I'll expect her to behave like a dutiful daughter. She cannot hide from me, nor from her duty to our Master." Then he too vanished.

"Why don't you head back to the inn, Draco?" Thaddeus said, a polite smile--which looked strained and not very sincere--fixed on his face. "Theodore will be along shortly."

Draco hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and left, saying, "I'll see you back at the inn, then, Nott."

As soon as they were alone, Thaddeus reached out and grabbed his son's right wrist, gripping it so tightly that Theodore winced in pain and bit his lip to keep from crying out. "You can scream if you like, Theodore," Thaddeus said with a nasty smile. "We've cast a brief spell of obscurement on this corner of the alley to prevent anyone from seeing or overhearing us. Unfortunately for your little friend, Andreas was keeping a lookout and must have felt he was getting a little too close for comfort." He leaned close and hissed into his son's ear, "If you ever make me look bad in front of Lucius Malfoy again, you will be very sorry, Theodore!" Still gripping Theodore's wrist, he pulled out his wand with his free hand and whispered a brief incantation.

Suddenly it felt to Theodore as if his father's hand around his wrist was not made of flesh and bone but red-hot iron. He screamed out loud as his father's touch seared his wrist, seeming to burn right through the skin and down to the bone. He struggled to break free, but Thaddeus only tightened his grip and the pain increased, until Theodore was forced to his knees, his vision blurry in a haze of pain, not sure whether his father intended to snap his wrist and break the bones, or burn right through them. Both, maybe...

Finally, Thaddeus released his son, who collapsed in a trembling heap at his feet. "Not acting so big now that your friend Draco's not here to protect you, are you?" he sneered. He kicked Theodore hard in the side, but the pain in Theo's wrist was so bad that he barely noticed. "If you ever defy me again, I will do far worse to you, understand?"

"Yes, Father," Theodore groaned, clutching his wrist.

"And you will do your duty," Thaddeus continued in a menacing tone. "You will serve the Dark Lord one way or another--as a Death Eater or as a sacrifice, do you understand me, Theodore?"

"Yes, Father," Theodore whispered. The elder Nott must have been satisfied with his response, because when he looked up again, his father was gone. He pulled up his sleeve and saw a bright red handprint circling his wrist; it was still smarting painfully, but hopefully there would be no permanent damage. He heard Blaise groan, then quickly pulled his sleeve back down. "Blaise?" he asked anxiously. "Are you all right?"

Blaise sat up, blinking, an unfocused look in his eyes. "Theo?"

"You know who I am!" Theodore said in relief.  Blaise smiled, looking a little confused. "Of course I know who you are. You're Theodore, my friend." He giggled. "My boyfriend!"

Theodore's relief was short-lived; Blaise never giggled, and his eyes had never looked that vacuous before.

"Where are we?" Blaise asked, looking around. "What happened?"

"We're in Hogsmeade," Theodore answered. "You, um, fell and hit your head. You might be a little dazed."

"Oh," Blaise said, frowning and rubbing his head. "Why aren't we in school?"

"It's Halloween," Theodore reminded him, his spirits sinking further.

"Oh," Blaise repeated, still looking confused.

"Come on," Theodore said. "Let's get back to the inn." He helped Blaise to his feet, and his friend followed him willingly enough back to The Three Broomsticks. _Merlin, I hope the spell wears off like it's supposed to!_

When they got back to the inn, the Gryffindors were looking sufficiently chastened as McGonagall glowered at them. Crabbe and Goyle looked a little sullen; they shot Draco an "I hope that was worth it" look, and Draco grinned and gave them a thumbs-up when the teachers' backs were turned.

McGonagall frowned at Theodore and Blaise when she spotted them. "Where have you been, Mr. Nott, Mr. Zabini? You know you're not supposed to go out without a chaperone."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Theodore said. "We didn't really leave," he lied. "We were right out back." He was about to say that Blaise had been feeling sick and needed some fresh air, but he didn't want her looking too closely at Blaise, who was still looking a little puzzled, but at least he remained quiet and said nothing to contradict Theodore. Then he thought of a better excuse and said, "We didn't want to get caught up in the fight. The Gryffindors are always blaming the Slytherins for everything--"

"Your lot started it!" Weasley protested, then fell silent as McGonagall glared at him.

"And I didn't want to get detention," Theodore finished virtuously. "So I thought it would be better to slip out behind the inn till the fuss died down."

McGonagall gave him a suspicious look, but chose not to challenge his story. "I think it is time we all returned to the school," she said, and the students groaned. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws shot resentful looks at the Gryffindors and Slytherins for cutting their trip short. Theodore was all too relieved to go back.

*** 

Dylan returned to his dorm to find the common room full of sulky-looking students. He found Damien in their dorm room and asked, "Why's everyone look so glum?"

"Oh, McGonagall cut the trip short because Crabbe and Goyle started a fight with the Gryffindors," he replied. 

"Oh? What did Malfoy have to say about that?"

Damien frowned. "Nothing. Come to think of it, I'd have expected him to be egging them on but I didn't see him around till it was over...and Theo and Blaise slipped off during the fight, too. Theo told McGonagall they hid out back because they didn't want to get drawn into the fight." He laughed nervously. "Maybe they were just having a little snog in the alley."

"Probably," Dylan agreed with a grin, although he knew better, and he suspected Damien did, too. Crabbe and Goyle were usually acting on Draco's orders when they made trouble, and if Draco wasn't around, that probably meant they had started the fight to provide a distraction so their leader could sneak off. To try and contact the Death Eaters? But Theo didn't want Blaise involved with the Death Eaters, and Draco wouldn't trust Blaise to come along on such an errand. Maybe they had been up to simple schoolboy mischief, or maybe Draco had gone off on his mysterious errand by himself, and Theo and Blaise had merely taken advantage of the distraction to spend some time alone together. But that didn't make sense either; they shared a dorm room, after all, and that provided much more privacy than Hogsmeade...

Attempting to change the subject, Dylan handed Damien his purchases from the Weasleys' store. "One Skiving Snackbox and one box of Ton Tongue Toffees as requested," he said lightly.

"Thanks!" Damien said. "Did you have to sneak off to get these?"

"No," Dylan grinned. "Snape let me go there."

"What?!"

"The Headmaster forced Snape to take Lupin along, and Lupin wanted to stop there. Snape was not happy about it, but apparently he was ordered not to let Lupin go off on his own; Dumbledore's afraid of anti-non-human sentiment or something."

"Hmm, tensions are running a bit high," Damien said. "But I would think that Lupin could take care of himself."

"But it would look bad for a werewolf to attack someone, even in self-defense," Dylan pointed out. "Nobody gave him a hard time, though, at least that I noticed."

"It would take a braver man than me to attack someone Snape is bodyguarding," Damien said fervently, and Dylan laughed. "I bet Snape must have just loved being assigned as Lupin's keeper!"

"Oh yes," Dylan said, rolling his eyes. "They fought during the entire carriage ride to Diagon Alley. Or at least, Snape fought with him. Lupin never really fights back. He just smiles and says--" Dylan imitated the exaggeratedly cheerful tone Lupin always used with Snape. "--'Yes, Severus,' or 'Is that so, Severus?' or 'Isn't it a nice day, Severus?'"

"Yeah, that always seems to drive Snape nuts," Damien laughed. "You poor thing, being stuck with them all day!"

"Well, it wasn't so bad," Dylan said. "He calmed down a little after we went to the Apothecary--they had some rare ingredients he wanted--and Lupin treated us to sundaes at Fortescue's. Oh, and by the way, be careful about using those Skiving Snackbox sweets; Snape picked up a box to give to Madam Pomfrey so she can tell when the students are faking their illnesses." He laughed as Damien groaned.

"Well, I suppose I can still use the Toffees on Doherty," he grumbled. "How much do I owe you?"

"My treat," Dylan replied.

"Really? Thanks! Oh, and Malfoy picked up this for you at Honeydukes." Damien handed Dylan the box of fudge.

"Wow, I thought he'd just pick me up a candy bar if he remembered to get me anything at all," Dylan said, surprised and a little impressed by the huge box of candy. "Want some?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Damien said with a grin, helping himself to the fudge. "Oh, and the girls all felt sorry for you, being stuck with Snape on a holiday, so I'm sure you'll get a ton of candy from them, too."

"We should share some with Theo and Blaise," Dylan said.

"They're in their room right now," Damien said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "They might not want to be interrupted. Actually, Theo said Blaise wasn't feeling well."

"What happened? Is he sick?"

"I dunno," Damien replied, "but he seemed a little out of it. Too much candy and butterbeer, maybe."

"Maybe," Dylan agreed, although it was out of character for Blaise to eat himself sick--Crabbe and Goyle, maybe, but not Blaise.

Later, before dinner, Draco pulled Dylan aside and spoke to him privately. "My dad contacted me at Hogsmeade!" he whispered triumphantly. "He said he won't have to be hiding much longer!"

"That's great!" Dylan said, feigning enthusiasm. If it seemed a bit forced, Draco didn't seem to notice.

"Isn't it, though?" Draco said smugly. Dylan was about to ask him if Theodore had been with him at the time, but Draco hurried off to catch up with Crabbe and Goyle. "Come on, Rosier!" he called. "We don't want to be late for the feast, and we have a lot to celebrate today!"

Dylan was about to follow Draco to the Great Hall when he spotted Theodore and Blaise. "Theo!" he said. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" It would be much safer to ask Theodore than Draco, anyway.

"Not now, Dylan," Theodore said impatiently. "We'll be late for dinner." Blaise smiled at Dylan, though his eyes looked slightly dazed and unfocused.

"Okay," Dylan said. "But after dinner--?"

"Dylan!" Pansy squealed. She and Millicent and some of the other girls came running up, practically shoving Theodore and Blaise aside. "We felt bad that you couldn't come to Hogsmeade, so we got you some candy."

"Thank you so much," he said smiling at the girls, who giggled and fluttered their eyelashes at him.

"Come on," Theodore said, "we're going to be late. Oh, damn it!"

"What's wrong?" Dylan asked.

"Where did Blaise go?" Theodore asked, looking around almost frantically. 

"He probably just went on ahead," Pansy said, unconcerned.

"What's wrong, Theo?" Dylan asked, frowning a little. It wasn't like Blaise couldn't find his way to the Great Hall alone...

"Nothing," Theodore replied nonchalantly, but his eyes still looked worried. "It's just, he's feeling sick, and he's a bit, um, disoriented."

"I'll help you find him," Dylan volunteered. The girls pouted. "We'll be along in a minute," he said, and winked at them flirtatiously. "You'll save me a seat, won't you?"

"Of course!" the girls chorused happily, and hurried off, arguing over who was going to get to sit next to Dylan.

Theodore hurried down the corridor in the opposite direction, and Dylan followed, asking, "What's wrong? If he's that sick, shouldn't he go to the hospital wing?"

"Just shut up and help me find him!" Theodore snapped, but Dylan was more worried than offended, because Theodore looked more scared than angry. They continued searching the dungeon in silence.

*** 

Snape was almost sorry when the carriage arrived at Hogwarts. Dylan awoke with a start, looking startled and embarrassed to find himself leaning on his teacher's shoulder. "The Thestrals made a sudden turn," Snape lied, "and sent you sliding into me." Well, it was not exactly a lie, but a bit of an exaggeration, and he acted as if it had just happened a minute ago, rather than at the beginning of the trip. Snape had always been a master of the half-truth; he had gained plenty of practice at it during his long tenure as a spy.

"Oh," Dylan said, flushing slightly. "Sorry, sir."

"No problem, Rosier," Snape replied indulgently, and the boy smiled at him. He nudged Lupin, who was still fast asleep. "Lupin." Lupin stirred, muttered something unintelligible, and snuggled closer against Snape. Dylan giggled, then quickly covered his mouth with his hand as Snape glared at him. "Lupin! Wake up, we're back at Hogwarts!"

"Huh?" Lupin said, blinking sleepily. "Oh." He yawned and stretched, then smiled. "Too bad, I was kind of enjoying myself."

"Go enjoy yourself in your own bed, Lupin," Snape said sourly.

"Only if you join me there," Lupin said archly.

"LUPIN!" Snape howled, as Dylan tried to stifle his laughter.

Snape kept up his scowl until he reached his office, then allowed himself to grin. The thought of Lupin in his bed--or himself in Lupin's--was definitely something to look forward to. Yes, despite the encounter with his mother, it had been a very good day. He was looking forward to enjoying the Halloween feast, and then spending the night with Lupin.

So of course fate had to ruin his good mood and all his plans.

First, McGonagall showed up, informing him of how his students had been involved in a brawl with the Gryffindors. "Yes, yes, I'll give Crabbe and Goyle detention," he sighed.

McGonagall was not pleased with what she called his "cavalier attitude". "You need to take these things more seriously, Severus," she scolded. "We don't need the students getting into fights at a time like this--"

Finally he got rid of her, promising to sentence Crabbe and Goyle to bedpan-scrubbing, and to give them "a stern talking-to" (as McGonagall put it). He began putting away his newly-purchased potion ingredients; the Runespoor eggs were a real find. They were used in potions to enhance mental ability, and he had to start a new batch of Mind Restoration Potion soon. He could make the potion without them, but the eggs could be used as a substitute for the dragon's blood, and were in fact much more effective. Well, not that he really cared whether Gilbert Donner had all his wits about him or not, but Snape did enjoy getting his hands on such a rare ingredient, and he did enjoy a challenge. He could have Dylan help him with the potion again; it was too bad that he couldn't enlist Granger's aid without arousing suspicion among his Slytherins...

Just as his mood was starting to improve, Draco Malfoy showed up bearing a message from his father. He looked even more smug than usual as he explained how he had met Lucius in Hogsmeade. _Ah, that explains the fight Crabbe and Goyle started,_ Snape thought to himself sourly. He took the letter and dismissed the boy, who looked disappointed that Snape wasn't going to share the contents of it with him, but left without complaint. He broke the seal and read the terse note:

"Expect a summons tonight after dinner. Bring the boy."

Snape sighed and tossed the note into the fireplace. _So much for a romantic evening with Lupin,_ he thought regretfully. And it also meant that he would have to put Dylan in danger again. He locked his office door, cast a silence spell on the room, and contacted Lupin and Branwen through the fireplace.

"I don't like this," Lupin said, looking worried.

"Nor I," Branwen said. "I don't think it's a coincidence that he's summoning his Death Eaters on All Hallows Eve; it's a prime time to work Dark Magic..."

"Do you think he might be planning to work some sort of spell?" Lupin asked.

"I have no idea," Snape said. "I hope he just wants to welcome his newly-freed Death Eaters back to the flock, but it's not like I have a choice. It's either show up tonight with Dylan or break my cover. I'd leave Rosier at home if I could, but no Death Eater can defy the Dark Lord's orders and expect to live."

"You're right," Branwen agreed, frowning. "Now is not the time to make the break. Apart from your own safety, it would be dangerous for Dylan to be branded as a traitor while he's still living in Slytherin House."

Lupin sighed unhappily, but didn't argue. "Shall we wait for you at Sirius's house as we did before, then?"

"Yes," Snape replied. "I hope it will be unnecessary, but better safe than sorry, as the saying goes."

Branwen left, and Lupin embraced Snape before departing through the fireplace as well. "I'll be waiting for you, Severus. No matter what happens."

"I love you, Remus," Snape whispered; he always said those words to Lupin before he left to answer a summons, because he knew all too well that it might be the last chance he would ever have to say them. "I'll come back to you," he added, hoping that Voldemort would not make him into a liar.

"I love you, Severus," Lupin replied softly, though he still looked anxious, then left.

Snape brooded alone in his office until it was almost time for dinner, then sighed and got up to leave. He gathered up some graded papers and supplies, deciding to drop them off in his classroom before heading to the Great Hall.

*** 

Theodore heard a startled exclamation from the direction of Snape's office, and he and Dylan hurried around the corner to find an irritated Snape looking down at some scattered rolls of parchment and paper-wrapped parcels, as well as Blaise, who lay sprawled out on the floor at Snape's feet.

"Watch where you're going, Zabini!" the Potions Master snapped.

"Sorry, Professor," Blaise replied, smiling up at him cheerfully. Snape blinked in surprise. "Am I late for class?"

Snape's expression changed from irritation to concern. "Are you feeling all right, Mr. Zabini?"

Theodore hurried forward and pulled Blaise to his feet. "He's a little under the weather, sir, but he's fine. He, uh, just had too much candy at Hogsmeade." Well, that was a pretty lame excuse, but if he went with the "Blaise fell and hit his head" story, Snape would want to send Blaise to the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey would be able to tell that he was suffering from a Memory Charm, not a concussion.

"Too much candy gives you a stomachache; it doesn't make you forget what day it is," Snape said sharply. He turned his gaze on Dylan, who shrugged. Snape looked back at Blaise. "What happened, Mr. Zabini? Are you ill?"

"I don't know," Blaise replied, still smiling up at Snape vaguely. "I don't remember."

Snape's eyes widened, and he leaned down to look at Blaise more closely, then cursed under his breath. "Mr. Rosier," he said in that curt, implacable tone that all the Slytherins knew better than to argue with, "take Mr. Zabini to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey that I believe he's suffering from the effects of a Memory Charm. Tell her I'll explain later."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said, and took Blaise by the arm and hurried off.

"Well, I'd better go with them," Theodore said hastily.

"Not so fast, Mr. Nott," Snape snapped, and grabbed him by the wrist as he started to back away. Theodore cried out in pain before he could stop himself.

Snape looked startled, and loosened his grip a little, though he did not let go of Theodore. "In my office, Nott," he said, and dragged a miserable Theodore back to his office. Snape closed and locked the door behind them, then pushed back the sleeve of Theodore's robe. Theodore heard a sharp hiss of surprise as Snape caught sight of the handprint burned into his wrist. "Who did this to you?" Snape asked, sounding angry--and concerned?

Theodore looked up, and to his amazement saw that yes, there was concern in Snape's black eyes. "I--I can't tell you," he stammered, turning pale.

He waited for Snape to berate him, but the Potions Master only frowned and looked thoughtful. "Never mind," he said, "I can guess. It was your father, wasn't it?" Theodore remained silent, but began to tremble. "You and Malfoy slipped off at Hogsmeade to meet your fathers. And..." Snape's eyes narrowed. "...Mr. Zabini must have followed you, and they cast the Memory Charm on him to make him forget what he'd seen."

Theodore just stared back at him in terror, not sure whether he should confirm or deny that guess--that very accurate guess. Snape was a Death Eater, but Theodore suspected his father would still be angry if he talked about what had happened in the alley.

*** 

Snape frowned at the boy trembling in front of him. He had a choice to make: he could play it safe, do nothing, and keep his cover--and continue to let Theodore be abused by his father and eventually be drawn into the Death Eaters. Or he could try to help the boy, but his cover would be at risk if the Death Eaters found out, because no true Death Eater would interfere in such a matter; in the eyes of most purebloods, a child was the property of his family, and they could treat him however they pleased. And while a few of the Death Eaters, such as Narcissa Malfoy, might love their own children, they were not likely to be very concerned about someone else's.

If it was only his safety at stake, Snape would not have hesitated to take the risk, but Lupin and Dylan might be endangered as well if his loyalty should become suspect. But he knew what Lupin and Dylan would want him to do, and in the end, he didn't really have a choice. He had promised himself that he would protect his Slytherin students; if he stood by and did nothing, he would be no better than Professor De Lacy, the former Head of Slytherin, who had let Voldemort take his students without resistance.

"Come here, Nott," Snape said, motioning for Theodore to step forward; the boy nervously obeyed. Snape took a jar of healing salve down from a shelf behind his desk and applied the salve to the boy's wrist. Theodore relaxed a little as the pain eased, and looked just a little less frightened. Snape put the cap back on the jar and handed it to Theodore, saying, "Here, you might as well keep this. Apply it as often as you need to in order to keep the pain down; about three times daily, I should think, but you can come back for more if you need it. I think the burn should fade in about a week, and the salve will keep it from scarring."

"Thank you, sir," Theodore said, sounding grateful if puzzled.

"Has he done this to you before?" Snape asked. The boy remained silent, but the look in his eyes was answer enough. Maybe not this particular hex, but Snape was sure that Thaddeus Nott had abused his son in the past. "You'll be safe here at Hogwarts," Snape said. "I'll find some excuse to keep you from going on any further Hogsmeade outings--detention, perhaps." Theodore looked as though he didn't know whether to be grateful or offended, and then looked shocked as Snape smiled just the slightest bit. "Or perhaps I'll have you assist me on a special project."

Theodore shook his head. "No, that might make Draco jealous," he pointed out. Snape nodded in approval; the boy was intelligent and sensible. "I don't really mind getting detention," he said, watching Snape warily, "but the Christmas holidays are coming up in a couple of months, and I'll have to go back home then, anyway, so I don't know how much good that will do..."

"Thaddeus would be a fool to return home," Snape said. "I'm sure the Aurors are keeping a close watch on all the escaped Death Eaters' residences. But just in case, I'll tell your mother that I want you to stay at school this Christmas. It's not too early to prepare for your N.E.W.T.s." 

"My mother's not the one you need to worry about," Theodore muttered sullenly.

"I will convince your parents," Snape said. "Both of them. I think, in these uncertain times, perhaps it might be wise to keep my flock of Slytherins close at hand...the populace is uneasy, and the Aurors are nervous and trigger-happy; perhaps I will recommend that all my students stay back at Hogwarts this year."

"Why are you helping me?" Theodore whispered, apparently afraid of trusting Snape; Snape was not surprised. A child with an upbringing such as Theodore's would be wise to trust no one, but that did make things more difficult for Snape. "My father...he's one of you..."

"I might be a Death Eater," Snape said, and Theodore gasped out loud; he knew that Snape was a Death Eater, of course, but Snape never spoke openly of it, not even to the children of his supposed comrades. "However," Snape continued, "I am also your teacher and Head of House, and I am responsible for your safety and well-being." Theodore did not look convinced. Snape hesitated, then made a second difficult decision, and said softly, "Besides, my father was a great deal like yours."

"He was?" Theodore asked, suspicion warring with curiosity and hope--no, more desperation than hope--in his eyes. He might be a cynical, distrustful child, but he was still a child, and like most children, he wanted an adult to protect him and make everything all right. As a Death Eater's child, he knew that was unlikely to happen, but some almost instinctive, childish impulse in him made him long for it all the same; Snape knew, because it was that same impulse that had led him to trust the Headmaster as a lonely, wary young boy--at least to a certain extent.

"Yes," Snape replied, gazing directly into Theodore's dark, almost murky, green eyes. "My father used the Cruciatus Curse on a regular basis to punish me when I misbehaved." Theodore gasped again. "Of course," Snape said with a bitter little smile, "he did not use it often, because I soon learned not to misbehave, but from time to time, he found an excuse to use it on me. He never did so for no reason, I must admit, but I think he enjoyed it." Theodore was staring at him in shock and horror, and Snape, making an educated guess based on the resentment Theodore held towards his mother, added, "And my mother did nothing to stop him."

The look in Theodore's eyes--hurt, bewilderment, resentment--told him he had guessed correctly. "She never tried to stop him, not once," Theodore whispered sullenly. "She's too scared of him herself." He timidly asked Snape, "Was...was your mother afraid of your father, too?"

"No," Snape replied quietly. "That, perhaps, I might have forgiven. No, she simply didn't care; she didn't think he was doing anything wrong." He mockingly echoed Selima Snape's words: "It is a father's duty to punish his children when they misbehave." 

Theodore smiled bitterly. "I still think cowardice is worse," he whispered, "but then, I'm a coward, too. Serafina at least had the guts to hex her father when he hurt her."

"Andreas Avery is at heart a coward," Snape said coolly. "I wouldn't advise hexing your father, Theodore; he would most likely kill you--if you were lucky."

A little suspicion crept back into Theodore's eyes. "Why didn't you help Sera, if you're so concerned about us?"

"Miss Avery was not my student back then," Snape pointed out. "But I knew what was going on," he admitted, as guilt prodded his conscience. It was not easy, confessing his sins to a sixteen year old boy, but he knew that this was his best and perhaps only chance to win Theodore's trust, and the boy was too clever and cynical to be appeased by evasive answers or glib excuses. "Cowardice is a common commodity, it seems," he said, his lips twisting in a mirthless smile. "I will not lie to you, Theodore. I could not help Serafina directly, nor can I help you directly, by openly opposing your father, for fear of offending my fellow Death Eaters. The best I can do is to shield you by directing his attention elsewhere."

Theodore was silent for a long moment, then seemed to come to a decision of his own. "That's still more than anyone else has ever done for me," he said. "I'll take you up on your offer to keep me at school during the holidays, sir. Thank you." He began to look nervous again. "But I'll have to leave for the summer..."

"We'll deal with that when the time comes," Snape sighed; he could not hide the boy from his parents indefinitely. "Perhaps I might be able to find you an overseas summer study program." Maybe he could send Theodore to Kamiyama for the summer, if he could convince Thaddeus that the boy would be learning some useful Dark Magic spells. Then again, maybe the Dark Lord would have killed them all by then, making the whole point moot...from the grim look on Theodore's face, the same thought had probably occurred to him.

"Yes, sir," the boy said solemnly.

"Very well," Snape said. "Go to dinner, and tell your classmates that Mr. Zabini is ill."

"Yes, sir. What...what will you tell Madam Pomfrey?"   
"That it was a juvenile prank that got out of hand."

Theodore hesitated at the door. "Professor?"

"Yes?"

He hesitated again, looking pale and fearful, but finally he said, "Lucius Malfoy and my father wanted to kill Blaise when they caught him."

"What?!" Snape exclaimed. In hindsight, he was not really surprised, but Zabini had come back safely, if with his wits slightly addled. "What changed their minds?"

"I...I told them that it would be too suspicious if a student suddenly died or went missing," Theodore said. 

"You are correct," Snape said approvingly. "Lucius at least should have realized that. Clever lad."

Theodore looked startled, but gave him a very small and tentative smile. Snape recognized that look, too; he remembered being a young student at Hogwarts, wanting to trust the people who reached out to him--Dumbledore, Professor Blackmore, and Lupin--but never quite daring to trust them completely. He was a little surprised that Theodore had decided to trust him--however tentatively--so quickly, but maybe the boy was less hardened than Snape had been at that age--or possibly just more desperate.

"My father still wanted to kill Blaise," Theodore said, his dark eyes a little frantic. "But Mr. Malfoy overruled him."

_Desperation, then,_ Snape decided. _He wants to save his friend, and he's willing to go out on a limb to do it._ Good; if he could feel compassion, then he was not as far down the road to becoming a Death Eater as Draco was.

"I told him Blaise wouldn't betray them, and Draco backed me up," Theodore said, looking a little surprised. 

"Really?" Snape said. "Hmm..." Maybe there was more to Draco than he had thought...

"He said that he was in control of Slytherin House--" Theodore cast a nervous look at his teacher. "--and that Blaise would do whatever he said."

Well, that sounded more in character, but still, Snape was surprised that Draco would go out of his way to help the Zabini boy, even if he was one of Draco's housemates.

"Please," Theodore begged, "you'll protect Blaise, won't you? You won't let them kill him?"

"So long as Lucius and the others believe that the Memory Charm was effective, they have no reason to harm him, but I'll keep a very close eye on Mr. Zabini," Snape promised. "I think he had best stay at Hogwarts for the rest of the school year with you, just to be on the safe side. If Blaise's memory does start to return, make sure he keeps quiet about it, and let me know." Snape's eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to him. "Is that why your father hexed you? Because you argued with him about killing Zabini?"

"Yes, sir," Theodore mumbled, staring at his feet.

"Did Lucius say anything else to Draco about Zabini?" Snape asked. "To keep an eye on him, perhaps?" He was worried that Lucius might try to have the boy eliminated if he showed signs of regaining his memory.

"He...he told Draco to keep an eye on the children of the lower houses, people like Blaise who have pure blood but not much else. He wants to tempt them into joining the Death Eaters eventually."

"WHAT?!" Snape roared, and the boy jumped. He quickly got himself under control again, but inside he was furious. _How dare he! How dare he send his son to recruit _my_ students right under my nose--_ Then fury was replaced by fear. Snape was the logical person to begin recruiting the students, as a Death Eater and the Head of Slytherin; if Lucius was assigning that task to Draco without consulting him, then did that mean he suspected something? 

Then again, perhaps Lucius was only indulging Draco and letting him feel important, or perhaps recruiting the students was one of the things they would discuss at the meeting tonight. He didn't know what would be worse: having his loyalty suspect, or being ordered to begin recruiting his students as a loyal Death Eater. Because if he was so ordered, then his loyalty would soon become suspect if it hadn't been already, because there was no way he was going to hand his students over to the Dark Lord.

"I am Head of Slytherin," Snape said coldly. "I should have been informed of this first." Let Theodore think he was angry mainly because of ego and botched protocol; if the boy did not quite trust him yet, neither did he completely trust the boy. He didn't think that Theodore would betray him out of malice, but he might do it out of fear, if pressed hard enough.

"I'm sorry, sir," Theodore said, cringing a little.

"Never mind," Snape sighed. "It's not your fault."

"Sir," Theodore said nervously, "Blaise won't betray us, but he...he's not...I don't..."

"But he's not cut out to be a Death Eater," Snape finished. "I know." Theodore was still staring at him anxiously. "I'll protect him."

"Thank you," Theodore said, his eyes filled with relief.

"Just make sure that he does nothing to arouse Draco's suspicions."

"Yes, sir! Don't worry, sir, I'll see that he doesn't."

"And Nott?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Not a word to your father about all this."

"No, sir!" Theodore said fervently.

"It's a delicate situation," Snape continued. "I'll have to handle it carefully. And I'm sure you'd prefer that I kept your name out of it, in any case."

"Yes, sir!"

"Come to me if you hear anything more from your father or his companions."

"Yes, sir."

Snape hesitated; he had risked this much--a little more wouldn't hurt. Hopefully. "Or if you hear any...ah...interesting gossip from your friend Draco," he added.

"Yes, sir," Theodore replied readily.

"Very well, run along, then."

*** 

Theodore prayed that he wasn't making a big mistake by trusting Snape, but it wasn't like he had much choice; there was no one else he could turn to. He didn't trust the Headmaster, however kindly he acted, because everyone knew that the Gryffindors in general and Harry Potter in particular were his pets. The memory of the House Cup being stolen from Slytherin and handed to Gryffindor after they had won it fair and square in first year still rankled a bit. _Well, maybe not "fair and square,"_ Theodore admitted to himself, _but still..._

It was not so much the Gryffindors' victory that bothered him, but the way it had been done: the Headmaster had not awarded Potter and his little friends their extra points before the feast but during it, after Slytherin had already been proclaimed the victor, humiliating them in front of the entire school by snatching away their prize and handing it to Gryffindor. Oh, Theodore believed that if he gave the Headmaster information about the Death Eaters he would act on it, but he was afraid that Dumbledore would be more concerned with catching the Death Eaters than protecting Blaise. After all, what was one unimportant Slytherin boy in the grand scheme of things? Theodore had read his history books and he knew that in war, individual lives were sometimes sacrificed for the greater good. Theodore didn't care about the greater good; all he wanted to do was save Blaise.

Lupin might be willing to help him; he seemed genuinely concerned about protecting all his students, even the Slytherins, but however good a mage he was, he was not powerful enough to stand up to the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters alone. No, it would have to be Snape. As a Death Eater, Snape could steer his comrades' attention away from Blaise without drawing suspicion. Maybe he could even keep Theodore's father away from him, at least for awhile. But he was aware that he could not avoid his father forever. He could endure his father's cruelty; he had done so for the past sixteen years, after all, but things were different now that the Dark Lord had returned. The stakes were higher now--as his father had pointed out, the only options he had were to become a Death Eater or to become a sacrifice.

For the first time he wondered just how loyal a Death Eater Snape really was. Of course, this could all be a trick; Snape might be pretending sympathy to gain his confidence, then turn around and tell Thaddeus Nott about his wayward son, but somehow Theodore didn't think so. He believed the story Snape had told him about how his own father had punished him with the Cruciatus Curse; there had been real bitterness, anger, and shame in his eyes as he spoke. It was mostly the shame that convinced Theodore that Snape was telling the truth, because only someone who had actually been through what they had would understand the shame of being too weak and afraid to fight back. 

So...Snape might be helping him because he identified with Theodore somehow? It sounded ludicrous, yet Theodore believed it. That didn't necessarily mean that Snape wasn't also a loyal Death Eater, but it was very rare for a Death Eater to show compassion to another person, at least one outside of his immediate family--and sometimes not even then, as Theodore knew all too well. And Snape was willing to deceive, or at least mislead, his fellow Death Eaters in order to protect Theodore and Blaise.

His parents had known Snape for years, and Theodore had been his student for over five years, but he still knew little about the man, and nothing about why he had joined the Death Eaters. He knew that Snape, who was several years younger than his parents, had officially joined the Death Eaters shortly after graduating from Hogwarts, and had supposedly reformed and switched sides after the Dark Lord fell--as most of the Death Eaters had, in order to save their lives and their freedom. 

He had returned to the Dark Lord's side along with the other Death Eaters, but who was Snape--a loyal Death Eater, who had been biding his time until his Lord returned? Someone who had gotten in over his head as a youth, who perhaps now regretted joining the Death Eaters but was too afraid to back out? Or...could it be that he really had reformed and was still loyal to Dumbledore? But then that would mean... Theodore shook his head. It was difficult to believe, despite Dumbledore's oft-professed belief in second chances. He could not believe that Dumbledore trusted Snape as much as claimed to, and he could not believe that anyone would be brave enough and foolish enough to betray the Dark Lord.

_I don't want to know,_ Theodore decided. It was not safe to speculate about such things; let Snape's reasons remain a secret. He would not question them, so long as Snape continued to help him.

He and Dylan came down to dinner late; they explained that Blaise was feeling sick and had been sent to the hospital wing by Snape. Draco just grinned knowingly, looking quite smug. Serafina gave him a hard, penetrating stare with her blue-violet eyes, then looked away, but it reminded him of the message he was supposed to pass on from her father. He lingered behind and pulled her down a side corridor as they headed back to their dorm. "I have a message for you," he whispered. "Your father is back, and he says he expects you to be a dutiful daughter."

She jerked her arm free from his grasp, and a hint of rare emotion--contempt--filled her eyes. "Fine," she said curtly. "You've given me your message. Now leave me alone."

"Do you think I like this?" Theodore hissed at her. "I don't have a choice, and neither do you! Your father said you can't hide from him or from your duty to 'our Master'."

Then Serafina looked weary, and almost sad. "I know, Theodore," she said quietly. "I know there's no hiding from it. From them." She started to turn away, then paused and asked, "So do you intend to do your duty, Theo?"

"What other choice is there?" Theodore asked despairingly.

"I don't know," Serafina replied with that same look of weary sorrow, then turned and headed back to the dorm.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Death Eater summons reveals the fate of Karkaroff; Sirius is sent on a diplomatic mission to Japan; and an Occlumency lesson causes both Harry and Snape to struggle with conflicting feelings.

As Snape left the Great Hall, he passed by the Slytherin table and said, "I want a word with you, Rosier." Dylan got up and followed him. His Slytherin housemates were oddly subdued, not responding with the usual sympathetic or joking comments they made when one of their own seemed to be in trouble with Snape. But then, except for Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, they had been unusually subdued ever since the news of the prison break at Azkaban had been made public.

To Dylan's surprise, Snape headed not for his office, but for his quarters, where he fetched their Death Eater robes.

"Are we being summoned?" Dylan asked, his heart sinking. "I didn't feel the Mark burn."

"I received a message telling us we would be summoned tonight," Snape replied curtly, his face already schooled into the emotionless mask he always wore around the Dark Lord. "Come along, it will take some time to get far enough off the school grounds to Apparate, and the Dark Lord does not like to be kept waiting."

With almost perfect timing, their Marks began to burn as they left the school behind. Snape pulled Dylan close, and a moment later they re-emerged in Voldemort's underground chambers. Other black-robed figures were arriving, and soon the full complement of Death Eaters were present. They all took their places in the circle and bowed to their Master, who was dressed in his usual black robes, but this time he also wore a belt around his waist that held a sheathed dagger, one with an orate gold hilt wrought in the shape of a serpent.

"Welcome!" Voldemort said, sounding pleased and triumphant. "I have summoned you here to celebrate on this All Hallows Eve, the return of your imprisoned brethren!"

The Death Eaters bowed to him again, and Lucius Malfoy said, "Thank you, Master, for freeing us from our imprisonment."

"You should not have let yourselves be taken in the first place," Voldemort said coldly, but without his usual menace. "Do not fail me again."

"No, Master," Lucius said, hastily dropping to his knees and bowing low. "Never again, Master."

"Very good, Lucius," Voldemort said almost indulgently, and Dylan began to grow nervous, wondering if it was a good or a bad sign that the Dark Lord was in such a good mood; it was not like him to be merciful. "Dylan," Voldemort said, causing him to jump a little.

"Yes, my Lord?" Dylan asked respectfully, making sure his mental walls were firmly in place.

"Fetch me your roses from the corner."

"Yes, my Lord."

"DYLAN?!" shouted a surprised but very familiar voice.

"Uncle Gwydion?!" Dylan exclaimed in disbelief, as two of the Death Eaters pushed back their hoods. "Uncle Gilbert?!"

Gwydion looked furious while Gilbert just looked shocked and horrified. Gwydion turned on Lucius Malfoy and shouted, "You told me Ariane was keeping him away from the Death Eaters! You told me you'd keep Dylan from inheriting the Donner estates!"

"What?!" shouted Dylan, throwing back his own hood. 

He knew better than to expect loyalty from the Death Eaters, but this little revelation sent his blood boiling until Snape leaned over and whispered, "Control yourself, Mr. Rosier." Then he took a deep breath and regained control of his emotions, the knowledge that losing control could get them both killed acting like a sudden splash of cold water in the face, bringing him back to his senses.

"It is true that Ariane was reluctant to let him join us," Lucius said in a silky voice. "But Dylan came to us on his own."

Dylan did not contradict that blatant lie, but had to fight very hard to keep his defenses up and remain in control.

"I knew you would turn out like your father, you foul little demon's spawn!" Gwydion snarled at Dylan.

"Who are you to talk, you hypocrite?" Dylan snapped. "All these years, you've insulted my father's memory and treated your own sister like dirt, but you're no better than them! You're a beast and a rapist, and now it seems a Death Eater as well!" Then suddenly something dawned on him; he remembered his great-uncle mentioning something about Gwydion getting a job at the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "It was you who helped free the prisoners at Azkaban! You were the inside help!"

"Dylan!" Snape said sharply, and Dylan bit his lip and fell silent, belatedly remembering Snape's admonition not to be too clever for his own good. 

But Voldemort just chuckled and looked approving. "Clever child."

"Did you want Uncle Math's little country estate so badly, Uncle?" Dylan asked in a much quieter and calmer voice. "You already took the inheritance that belonged to my mother; was that not enough for you?"

"I didn't do it for the lands, you little brat!" Gwydion snarled. "I did it to help Gilbert!"

Dylan turned to look at his other uncle, suddenly noticing that his gray eyes were no longer dull and unfocused; indeed, he seemed sharply aware of his surroundings. He looked frightened and miserable, and when Dylan's eyes met his, suddenly guilty and ashamed rather than hostile.

Voldemort smiled, looking as if he were savoring the twins' anger and guilt. "Gwydion agreed to serve me in exchange for a potion that would restore his brother's sanity."

"Temporarily," Gwydion snarled.

"Potion?" Dylan asked, giving Snape an accusing look; his teacher's black eyes remained blank and unreadable.

"Temporarily, of course," Voldemort agreed. "There is no permanent cure for Gilbert's condition, but even if there were, I would never have given it to you. How else could I ensure your loyalty if you did not have to come back for a regular dose of the Mind Restoration Potion to keep your brother sane?"

Gwydion's face turned red with anger, and Gilbert looked even more miserable and ashamed of himself. "You lied to me!" Gwydion said. "You double-crossed me!"

Lucius Malfoy gave him a malicious smile. "I thought you said you joined us out of brotherly love, Gwydion. Are you saying that you would have let your brother remain a half-wit if you knew that Dylan would become a Death Eater after all?" Gwydion said nothing, but spluttered with rage. "Perhaps it was ambition that motivated you, not love. You seemed quite concerned when I mentioned the possibility of you losing the Donner title if you failed to sire a daughter."

"That's not true!" Gilbert protested loyally, but he gave his brother an uncertain, almost hurt look.

Gwydion didn't seem to notice. "If I had known I would have to serve alongside my sister's brat--"

"Enough!" shouted Voldemort, and everyone fell silent. "Our little reunion is not quite complete." His voice had lost all its indulgence and amusement, turning cold and hard. "Dylan, bring the roses, now!"

Dylan rushed to obey, picking up the potted plant, which though it had grown, did not seem to be as heavy as it looked, though it was a bit awkward to carry, especially since he was trying to hold it as far away from his body as possible to avoid being pricked by the thorns. One of the blossoms swayed forward on the end of its vine to brush lightly against Dylan's cheek in what seemed like an affectionate caress, and he nearly dropped the plant, but somehow managed to hang onto it.

Dylan and the other Death Eaters followed the Dark Lord down a dark passageway into another room; Dylan recognized it--recognized the stone altar on which his mother had been laid the night he had been forced into taking the Dark Mark. But this time, instead of Ariane, a thin, haggard-looking man lay gagged and bound on it. The other Death Eaters gasped, and someone exclaimed, "Karkaroff!" And then Dylan realized it was Professor Karkaroff, the Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute; he had not recognized the man at first. Karkaroff, already thin to begin with, had lost weight and looked almost skeletal, and his once elegantly-groomed white hair and goatee had grown out into an unkempt, tangled mess.

Voldemort's red eyes were glowing with triumph as he said, "See, now all our members have returned to the flock! No one leaves the Death Eaters! No one betrays me without being punished!" He reached down and pulled the gag off the man's mouth. "You were a fool to think you could escape my grasp, Igor! Any last words?"

"Please, Master!" Karkaroff begged. "Please, give me another chance! Mercy--"

"I have no mercy for traitors!" Voldemort snapped. "You had your chance during the Triwizard Tournament; if you wanted a second chance, you should have asked for it then! Perhaps if you had groveled sufficiently, I might have given it to you. Now it's too late."

"Mercy!" Karkaroff wailed. He frantically turned to the other Death Eaters. "Lucius, Severus, please help me! Antonin...?" But his fellow Death Eaters ignored his pleas, stepping back and turning away from him.

"Now you will all witness the fate of a traitor!" Voldemort shouted. "Dylan, bring the roses and set them down here!" 

Dylan knew what was coming next, but he had no choice except to obey. He did not dare look at Snape for reassurance, but immediately stepped forward and placed the flowerpot on the altar beside Karkaroff as the Dark Lord bid him. Voldemort drew his dagger, and Karkaroff cried out in pain as the Dark Lord slashed him across the chest with it. Blood welled up through the wound, soaking his robes, and Dylan hastily retreated as the roses began to stir eagerly.

The vines lashed out like whips, wrapping themselves around the immobile wizard, and Karkaroff began to scream. Dylan trembled as the former Durmstrang Professor screamed and struggled; he knew he should control himself better, but he couldn't seem to stop. However, he saw that many of the other Death Eaters, including Gilbert, were also shaking with terror. Snape, however, remained outwardly calm and impassive, and Bellatrix Lestrange watched with an avid, eager look in her dark eyes. The thorns bit deeply into Karkaroff's flesh, drinking hungrily, and a number of new, blood-red roses blossomed on the vines. Karkaroff's screams gradually grew fainter, and his struggles weaker, until finally he lay still upon the stone slab, his eyes fixed open in a look of horror, and the vines unwrapped themselves from around his bloodless corpse and retreated back into their pot.

"This is the fate of all who defy me!" Voldemort declared, and the Death Eaters instantly sank to their knees in obeisance. "All traitors will be hunted down and slain, no matter how far they may flee!" He smiled down at the Donner brothers. "Have you any more complaints, Gwydion?"

"No, Master!" a pale and shaken Gwydion said hastily. "None!"

"Good," Voldemort said, patting him on the shoulder almost affectionately, and Gwydion visibly shuddered. "We are all family now, Gwydion; all the Death Eaters are your brethren, and you must set aside your former grudges. But fear not, as Lucius told you, I shall reward those who serve me well. You will both--" Voldemort's gaze shifted to Dylan for a moment. "--be far more than the rulers of a simple family estate." His arms opened wide, as if to include all the Death Eaters. "Together we will be the rulers of the wizarding world!"

"Master," the Death Eaters said in a hushed tone of combined fear and reverence, and they bowed down low, touching their foreheads nearly to the ground; Dylan quickly followed suit, imitating the others, and he saw that his uncles did so as well.

"Dylan," the Dark Lord said, beckoning to him, and Dylan quickly rose to his feet and approached the altar. "Cut me more of the blossoms; they may prove useful in some magical research I am conducting."

"Yes, Master," Dylan said obediently, trying not to shudder as he accepted the still-bloody dagger Voldemort held out to him. He managed to keep his hand steady as he trimmed off several blossoms. The vines quivered a bit, but made no move to attack.

"Wormtail," Voldemort said, beckoning again; the silver-handed Death Eater scurried forward, holding open a sack, which Dylan dropped the flowers into. Dylan handed the dagger back to Voldemort, who casually wiped it off on Karkaroff's robes before sheathing it. "You are dismissed," he said to his Death Eaters, who began to disperse, then said to Gwydion, almost as an afterthought, "Oh, that's right, you need more of the potion, don't you?"

"Yes, my Lord," Gwydion said, eyeing him nervously.

Wormtail ran to the corner of the room to pick up a small chest, and handed it to his Master. Voldemort opened the chest, revealing several potion bottles. He pulled out one, started to hand it to Gwydion, than opened his hand and let it fall to the floor, where it shattered and spilled its contents. From the corner of his eye, Dylan saw Snape wince slightly, no doubt at the sight of seeing all his hard work wasted. Because of course it must be Snape who had brewed the potion; in fact, this was probably the mysterious potion they had been working on last term, the one that had to be so carefully prepared.

Gilbert winced as well, and Gwydion's face turned red with anger, but he was clearly too cowed by the Dark Lord to object. "Never forget, Gwydion," Voldemort said softly, "that your brother's sanity depends on me. In fact, his very life--both your lives--depend on me."

"I will not forget, Master," Gwydion said, bowing to his Lord, and Voldemort handed him the remainder of the potion bottles. Gwydion paused to give Dylan one last, hateful look before he and his brother Disapparated.

"Return the roses to their usual spot, and you may go, Dylan," Voldemort said.

"Yes, my Lord," Dylan said, bowing low, and picked up the flowerpot, trying not to look at Karkaroff's corpse as he did so. He took the roses back to their corner in the main room, and Snape Apparated them out of there.

*** 

Lupin, Branwen, Sirius, and Tonks sat in the drawing room playing cards; Hob sat by the fire smoking his pipe. A jack-o-lantern carved by Hob sat on the mantle, grinning down at them toothily. Hob had prepared mugs of hot cider, and there was a big bowl of candy sitting on the table, but no one other than Bane was particularly hungry.

"Do you have any threes?" Lupin asked Tonks.

"You already asked me that last turn," she reminded him. "Go fish."

"Oh, right," Lupin said, a distracted look in his blue eyes. "Sorry."

Sirius sighed and threw his cards down on the table. "Let's give it up; nobody really feels like playing anyway."

Suddenly, they heard footsteps on the stairs, and the four wizards jumped to their feet. The door opened, revealing Snape and Dylan. They both looked unhurt, but Snape looked very weary, and Dylan's face was white, and there was a look of horror in his silver-gray eyes.

"Are you all right, Severus?" Lupin asked.

"Yes, we're fine," Snape replied. "But Dylan is a bit shaken, so I thought we could take some time to compose ourselves here before returning to the school."

"What happened?" asked Sirius.

Before Snape could reply, Dylan groaned, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Hob vanished, then reappeared holding a basin--just in time, as Dylan bent over and retched. Lupin and Snape hovered over the boy anxiously, and Tonks's eyes widened in surprise as Snape gently pulled the boy's long hair--which was starting to come loose from its ponytail--back from his face.

After emptying his stomach of its contents, Dylan straightened up, still looking pale. "Sorry," he mumbled. "If I'd known we were going to be summoned, I wouldn't have eaten anything at dinner."

"It's all right," Snape said gently, stroking the boy's hair. "I did the same thing, the night I saw my first execution."

"Really?" Dylan asked.

"Really," Snape replied. "And I'm pleased that you had the presence of mind to wait until after we left the Dark Lord's presence to do so." Dylan gave him a tentative smile, looking very young and vulnerable, with none of his usual cool composure.

Hob vanished with the basin, and Branwen offered the boy a mug of cider. "Here," she said kindly. "This will help wash the taste out of your mouth. Why don't you come have a seat here by the fire?"

Dylan gratefully sipped the cider and took a seat on the couch; Snape sat down beside him. Despite the warmth of the drink and the fire, Dylan began to shiver. Snape looked at him helplessly for a moment, then said, "Ouch!" as Lupin elbowed him in the side. Snape hesitantly and a bit awkwardly, put his arm around the boy. Dylan leaned against his teacher, not caring that he might be behaving childishly or embarrassing himself in front of two of his other teachers and two strangers--well, one stranger and one near-stranger.

Branwen gave Snape a smile of mingled tenderness and amusement; Tonks's eyes grew even wider. Snape gave both of them a sour look, but kept his arm around Dylan. Sirius stared at them, looking both thoughtful and a little uncomfortable, and Lupin leaned over and kissed his lover on the cheek.

"Damn it, Lupin!" Snape growled, and Dylan giggled. "Glad to see you're feeling better, Mr. Rosier," Snape said sourly, but there was an underlying tone of brusque affection in his voice, and Dylan smiled.

"Thank you, sir," he said shyly, straightening up a little. "I'm all right now."

"What you saw tonight was enough to unnerve anyone," Snape said gruffly. "You probably handled it better than Wormtail did."

"What did happen tonight, Snape?" Sirius asked, without his usual hostility.

"The Death Eaters had a little reunion tonight," Snape said, grinning mirthlessly. "The escaped prisoners...and another old friend: Karkaroff."

"Karkaroff!" Lupin exclaimed.

Snape nodded. "The Dark Lord wanted to use him as an example to the other Death Eaters, I think, of what would become of anyone who betrayed him."

"What did he do?" Tonks asked, as Dylan looked at her curiously. "Oh, sorry," she said. "I should have introduced myself. I'm Nymphadora Tonks, but please just call me Tonks. And I know that you must be Dylan."

Dylan nodded at her politely, but that name sounded familiar... "Tonks! I read that name in the Daily Prophet--it said you're being held as a 'material witness'--"

"Translation: 'suspect,'" Sirius muttered.

Tonks sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. I was framed for the break-in, so now I have to wear this." She tapped the silver collar around her neck. "Your Uncle Gwydion's Squib Collar."

Dylan had no idea what a Squib Collar was--though from the name, he could make an educated guess--but the name "Gwydion" reminded him of something. "You knew!" he said accusingly to Snape. "You knew that my uncles had become Death Eaters and you didn't tell me! You even had me help you make the potion for Gilbert, didn't you?"

"The Dark Lord clearly did not want you to know, so I did not tell you," Snape said coolly, but his eyes looked concerned and a little hurt.

"Don't be angry with Severus, Dylan; he was only trying to protect you," Lupin said gently. "It would have been dangerous for you both if Voldemort discovered Severus was sharing secrets with you, and you have only recently become proficient in Occlumency."

"I'm sorry," Snape said quietly. "I wanted to tell you, but I did what I thought was best."

"No, I'm sorry, Professor," Dylan said apologetically. "I know you did it to protect me. It was just such a shock to see them there! All my life, they've talked about how much they hated the Death Eaters; how can they be such hypocrites?"

"What do you expect from two men who would rape a teenage girl, their own uncle's apprentice, no less?" Snape said scornfully.

"Gwydion Donner is an arrogant, immoral man," Lupin said quietly, "but he joined the Death Eaters for love of his brother. Though there are some sacrifices which cannot and should not be made, not even for the sake of a loved one."

"Don't make him into a saint, Lupin," Snape said with a scowl. "While brotherly love might have played a part, Gwydion is as ambitious as any other Death Eater. He let it slip at the meeting that Lucius had promised him the entire Donner estate, including Dylan's portion, if he joined. Apparently Lucius played on his fears of losing his inheritance if he should fail to produce a female heir." Snape frowned thoughtfully. "I never thought of that before. The Donner title is supposed to pass through the female line; it goes to a male only if there are no female heirs available. If Gwydion fails to have children, Ariane or Mathias could legally challenge him for the title. Possibly even Dylan, especially if he should someday have a daughter..." A look of sudden comprehension filled Snape's black eyes. "Ah, so that's it! He would rather sell his soul than let Evan Rosier's son or grandchildren inherit the Donner estate!"

"That's foolish, though," Branwen objected. "He's still young, and there's plenty of time for him to produce an heir."

"For such a smart man," Snape pointed out, "Gwydion is surprisingly foolish. He was a fool to arrange Goewin's rape in the first place, and an even bigger fool to think he could get away with it."

Sirius scowled; the present conversation was reminding him too much of his childhood and his mother's endless lectures about pureblood politics. "While all this talk of inheritance and politics is quite fascinating," Sirius said sarcastically, "could we get back to the subject at hand? What happened to Karkaroff?"

"He's dead, of course," Snape said curtly.

"The Dark Lord used my roses to kill Professor Karkaroff," Dylan said softly. He began to tremble again, and Snape looked at him with concern. "I never saw anyone die before. I never killed anyone before."

"You didn't kill anyone, Dylan," Snape said firmly, putting his arm around the boy again. 

"I put the roses on the altar," Dylan whispered.

"The Dark Lord would have killed you if you didn't," Snape reminded him. "And it was the Dark Lord who drew Karkaroff's blood." He thought about saying that Karkaroff was no loss, but decided it wouldn't make Dylan feel any better, and would probably irritate Lupin. Besides, it was not really true; even though he had despised Karkaroff, who had been a coward with no real loyalty to either side, even though he had warned Karkaroff not to flee, Snape's conscience was bothered by his own tacit role in the man's death. He was just better at hiding his emotions than Dylan was. And after years of witnessing horrors, one gradually became somewhat--if not completely--numbed to them.

Branwen reached out and took Dylan's hands; he looked up at her, startled. "The fact that you can feel remorse," she said gently, "proves you are not like the other Death Eaters. There will be times when that guilt gnaws away at you and keeps you up at night, but never wish to be rid of it, Dylan, because that guilt and those sleepless nights are proof of your humanity." 

Dylan saw shadows in his Professor's green eyes, and wondered what guilty secrets she harbored. "What keeps you up at night, Professor?" he asked softly. 

She smiled at him sadly. "The fact that I could not save my students from Voldemort. I lie awake at night sometimes, wondering if there is something more I could have said or done to have kept them from falling under his sway, to have made them see what he truly was. I regret Nigel Riggs, a vain, foolish young man who so badly wanted status and respect in the eyes of the pureblood families that he sold his soul and never realized the cost until it was too late. I regret Lorcan Foley, whose father's abuse had already twisted his mind and made him a prime target for Voldemort." 

Her gaze drifted to Sirius for a moment. "I regret Regulus Black, who was a kind, if somewhat shallow young man, who blindly believed in the values his parents professed, without ever stopping to question them. I even regret Lucius Malfoy, who grew up without love in a house of cold propriety, and thus regarded any gesture of compassion as a weakness to be despised or exploited." She paused, her green eyes filling with tears and added softly, "But most of all, I regret not being able to save Lyall Wilkes and Evan Rosier."

"Professor," Dylan said, staring at her in shock.

"I'm sorry, Dylan," she said, as a tear slid down her face and Bane cawed at her, looking concerned. He gave up rummaging through the candy bowl and flew over to perch on her shoulder, rubbing his face against her cheek. "I'm sorry I couldn't save your father," Branwen continued, as she reached up to pet Bane.

"Why did you want so badly to save them?" Dylan asked, recalling Lupin's tale of how she had tried to convince his father and Wilkes to surrender. "Why do you regret their deaths the most?"

"I had no family of my own," Branwen replied, "so I came to regard my students as my family. I loved them as if they were my own children." Dylan's eyes grew wide. "The Slytherins especially, because I came from a family that practiced Dark Magic, and I knew the risks and temptations that they faced. And Evan and Lyall were so charming and so full of joy and life, before Voldemort corrupted them. I remember the little boys who stole a tank of live frogs from the Potions Master's office and set them loose in the Slytherin girls' dorm during their first year, and I remember the bold young man who asked me for a dance at the Yule Ball." She smiled nostalgically even as the tears continued to fall from her eyes. "They had their faults, yes: Lyall followed first Evan's, and then Voldemort's lead blindly, never once stopping to consider whether what he was doing was wrong, and Evan never cared about right or wrong, so long as he got what he wanted. And..." 

She hesitated a moment, then continued, "He was brought up to regard Muggles as less than human, so he felt no remorse about killing or torturing them; in fact, he learned to enjoy it." Dylan shuddered, and Snape gave her an accusing look, which she ignored. "But...there was goodness in them, too. They were fiercely loyal to each other; neither ever betrayed the other, no matter what punishments they were threatened with, which in school was just detention, but at the very end was death. And Evan loved Lyall, and he loved your mother, so much that he was willing to defy Lucius Malfoy over it, and he had always been one Lucius's most loyal followers. When Moody and the other Aurors looked at them, they saw only the hardened Death Eaters, the men who had killed innocent people, but when I looked at them, I saw the young boys I had grown to love, and I am sorry, so sorry, that I could not save them..." 

She was outright sobbing now, cold, imperious Professor Blackmore, her face buried in her hands as Bane made agitated croaking noises. "Professor!" Dylan said in alarm. 

"Branwen," Snape said, sounding concerned. Lupin and Tonks looked equally worried, but it was Sirius who came over and put his arm around her.

"It's all right, Branwen," he said gently. "You did your very best; there was nothing else you could have done. And you didn't lose of all of your students; there's me and Remus and Snape...you even managed to knock some sense into my thick head, and no one short of a miracle worker could have done that!" She laughed a little through her tears as she continued to weep on Sirius's shoulder.

"If you're feeling better, Mr. Rosier," Snape said, looking uncomfortable, "perhaps we should get back to school."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said hastily, rising to his feet, and Lupin did so as well.

"I assume that nothing else of consequence happened at the meeting?" Tonks asked quietly.

Snape nodded. "He just wanted to make an example of Karkaroff, that's all. You can tell them that, er...later," he said, nodding in Sirius's and Branwen's direction. Then he, Dylan, and Lupin left the room.

*** 

Tonks left the drawing room as well, and headed to her bedroom, leaving her cousin and Branwen alone. After a few minutes, Branwen stopped weeping and wiped at her eyes. Sirius made the showy gestures of a stage magician, rolling up his sleeves and holding out his empty palms, then with a flourish, produced a handkerchief from his clenched fist. "For you, milady," he said, bowing and offering her the handkerchief.

She laughed and accepted it, wiping the tears from her face. "Thank you, dear. I'm sorry about that."

"You did once offer me a shoulder to cry on, if I remember correctly," Sirius said lightly. "I'm just returning the favor."

"I remember," Branwen said. She hesitated for a moment, then said, "It's none of my business, of course, so you don't have to answer, but--"

"Why was I crying back then?" Sirius asked, his tone serious now, and no longer playful. He looked uncomfortable, then replied, "I guess you have the right to know. I...was having regrets about the past."

"What sort of regrets?"

"Snape. Remus. Regulus." Sirius sighed, and Branwen said nothing, but merely waited patiently. Finally, he continued. "I saw how worried Snape was about Dylan, and I realized he really cared about the boy. And if he was capable of caring about Dylan, then maybe he really did love Remus all along." His former teacher said nothing, but sighed in a slightly exasperated manner. "Yeah, okay, I know I'm a slow learner," Sirius grumbled. "I finally realized what a terrible thing I'd done by breaking him and Remy up, and I realized I had wanted to punish Remy as much as I did Snape. That was why I sent Snape to the Shrieking Shack instead of just hexing him or something." Sirius flushed with shame, but Branwen looked oddly sympathetic, considering that he was confessing how he had nearly gotten her favorite student killed. "I was jealous," he whispered. "I thought we'd lose Remy to Snape."

"Oh, Sirius," Branwen said softly.

"I know, I know, Remy doesn't think that way; he loves everyone without taking sides, even though Snape and I have pushed and pulled him back and forth between us all these years. I was so damn stubborn, so damn sure that I thought I knew what was right." He laughed bitterly. "Didn't you say something to me once, about how Gryffindors only see things as black or white? I hated Evan Rosier because he was a Slytherin and a Death Eater, but so was my own brother. I did love Reg, you know, but I turned my back on him when I left home. I was jealous of him, because he could do no wrong in my parents' eyes, while I could do nothing right. But if I'd stayed in touch with him, maybe I could have saved him."

"And maybe not," Branwen said gently.

"But I'll never know now, will I?" Sirius asked bitterly. "And now I have to live with it."

"We all have to live with our regrets, Sirius." Branwen sighed, then blushed a little, which made her look surprisingly young and girlish--as long as one didn't look too closely at her eyes, which were still haunted and filled with shadows. "I only meant to reassure Dylan; I didn't mean to break down in front of him like that..."

Sirius smiled at her and said gently, "Guilt and remorse are proof of your humanity, Branwen."

She laughed a little. "And now the student throws the teacher's words back in her face!" Then she smiled at him affectionately and said, "I knew one day you would grow up, Sirius," then leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead; he blushed like a schoolboy. "You should try and make peace with Severus, you know."

"I know," Sirius said, scowling, his face still a little red. "I did try apologizing to him, but--"

"You did?!" Branwen exclaimed.

Sirius felt a little annoyed that she sounded so shocked. "Yeah, but he didn't want to hear it. Says he'll never forgive me."

"Give it some time, Sirius. His wounds run deep; they won't heal overnight." But she was grinning from ear-to-ear, looking surprisingly happy for someone who had been sobbing her heart out a minute ago. "I'm so proud of you, Siri!" she said, hugging him so suddenly and tightly that the breath was knocked out of him, and Bane squawked indignantly as he was nearly thrown from his perch on her shoulder.

Then she released him, and while he was still catching his breath, she rose to her feet, saying, "I know the two of you can work things out eventually; don't give up on him, Sirius." He nodded weakly, and she patted him on the cheek in a motherly fashion. "Good night, dear." Then she left the room, humming to herself cheerfully as Bane croaked out an off-key accompaniment.

"Siri?" Sirius muttered in confusion to himself, scratching his head. No one had called him that since Regulus had been a toddler unable to pronounce Sirius's full name. Branwen certainly never called Lupin or Snape by nicknames. And how had she shifted from heartbroken to cheerful so quickly? "Women," he muttered darkly. "Mood swings. Or maybe it's a demon thing." He shuddered a little. "Demons with mood swings, now that's a scary thought!"

Before heading to bed, he stopped by Tonks's room. "Did Snape have anything else to report about the meeting?" he asked.

"No, apparently Karkaroff was the main attraction," she replied. "You-Know-Who just wanted to set an example for his Death Eaters. Is Branwen okay?"

"She seems just fine now," Sirius said, still feeling a little baffled by her reaction, and explained what had happened, although he felt a little awkward and ashamed to have to tell Tonks how stupidly he had behaved in the past.

"I see," Tonks murmured. "So that's why Snape hates you so much." Sirius flushed. "Well, you made some mistakes in the past, Sirius, but at least you're trying to set things right now. Branwen's right; you can't give up just because Snape isn't ready to forgive you yet. You owe it to him and to Remus--and to yourself--to keep trying. Er...and maybe we should stop referring to him as 'Snape' all the time. I do try to call him by his first name at the meetings. It might be hard to build a relationship with someone when you only call them by their last name."

Sirius scowled. "I don't want a 'relationship' with Snape! All I want is..." What did he want, anyway? "All I want is a truce between us!"

"A good working relationship as fellow members of the Order, you mean?" Tonks suggested with a grin as her cousin glared at her. "Come on, Sirius, he's your best friend's lover! You don't have to become bosom buddies, but I think you need to develop some kind of relationship beyond being just barely able to tolerate each other!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Sirius grumbled. "One step at a time. Let's get Snape--"

"Severus," Tonks corrected.

"I'll call him 'Severus' when he starts calling me something other than 'Black' or 'you moron,'" Sirius muttered.

"Sirius!" Tonks said sharply, sounding much more like Branwen than his mischievous little cousin.

"Let's just get Snape to stop hating my guts before we go about building a relationship, okay? That's going to be a hard enough task as it is!"

Tonks sighed. "I suppose you're right; we'll have to do this step-by-step."

"'We'?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows. "Don't I have enough people meddling in my life as it is? Remy, Branwen, even Hob, trying to get me married off..."

Tonks laughed. "What else have I got to do but meddle in your life, right now, Sirius?"

"We'll get your name cleared, Tonks," Sirius promised.

"I know, Sirius."

After a brief silence, Sirius said, "I don't get why Branwen was so overjoyed about me apologizing to Snape. I mean, I know she always scolds us for fighting and stuff, but she did a complete mood swing from weeping over Evan Rosier to hugging me so hard she nearly cracked my ribs." He rubbed his sides and muttered, "Actually, they're still a little sore..."

"You silly git," Tonks said affectionately. "Don't you know that you three--you, Remus, and Severus--are the people she loves most in the world? Of course she's happy that you're finally setting aside your feud with Snape and trying to get along with him!"

Sirius's jaw dropped open. "Branwen loves me?" he asked incredulously.

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Of course she loves you! Didn't you hear what she just said about her students being her family and loving them like they were her children?"

Suddenly he recalled their conversation at the beginning of the summer, when he had asked Branwen why she had let her favorite student, Snape, risk his life for Sirius's sake, and she had responded, "I love all three of you." "I know she does, I guess," Sirius mumbled. "It's just, Snape's always been her favorite." He flushed again; he hadn't meant for that to sound so whiny. "And she's always nagging at me, about how I need to be more responsible and less selfish and--"

Tonks grinned. She had talked a little with Branwen and Mad-Eye Moody over the summer, and she'd heard a few things about Sirius's training period with them. "I heard she was hard on you when you were training with her because she thought you had a lot of potential. She's tough on you because she cares about you, Sirius. If she didn't care, she wouldn't bother. Dedalus Diggle acts like an idiot at times, but she doesn't bother with lecturing him, because she doesn't care about him. She cares about you."

Sirius just stared at her, looking stunned and a little chastened. "When did you get so mature and grown-up, little cousin?"

Tonks laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "When you weren't looking, cousin dear." Sirius laughed and rumpled her spiky hair like he used to when she was a little girl. As he got up to leave, she added thoughtfully, "You know, Sirius..."

"Yes?"

"Branwen is a very attractive woman."

"Yes," he said in a tone that implied "and what's your point?"

"And, for all practical purposes, she's about the same age as you now, maybe even a little younger. Have you ever thought...?"

"No!" Sirius shouted in horror, as he realized what she was getting at. "Absolutely not! She was my teacher, for Merlin's sake!"

"But you're both adults and equals now--"

"I'm not dating a woman who gave me detention when I was a kid!" Sirius shouted. "The idea's ludicrous!" Then he scowled and added in an almost sulky voice, "Besides, she doesn't think of me as an equal. She still thinks of me as a kid."

"Then you'll have to convince her that you're an adult."

Sirius's face was turning red again, with both anger and embarrassment. "I'll convince her that I'm an adult, because I want her to think of me as her equal as a colleague and a friend! But that's all! I'm not interested in her that way! How could I date Professor Blackmore, for God's sake?!"

"If you want her to think of you as an equal," Tonks pointed out in a reasonable voice, "shouldn't you also think of her as an equal and stop thinking of her as your Professor?"

"Don't meddle in my love life, Tonks!" 

"But you asked me to," she said innocently.

"What are you talking about?!"

"Remember when you came to see me at the Ministry, and you were talking about how Hob wanted you to find a 'Missus' and you said I should find you some likely candidates--"

"I was joking!" Sirius shouted. "And I don't consider Branwen a 'likely candidate'!"

"Why not?" Tonks asked. "She's beautiful, intelligent, brave--"

"And scary as all hell!"

"And she does love you--"

"Like a son!"

"Well, yes, that's true," Tonks agreed, "so we have to get her to look at you as--"

"'We' are not doing anything! In fact, we're not having this conversation!"

"Sirius--"

"I don't need your help to find a girlfriend! In fact, I don't need a girlfriend right now, period! We're in the middle of a war! Who has time for romance?"

"Severus and Remus, apparently," Tonks replied helpfully.

"No meddling!" Sirius admonished his cousin sternly, then stalked out of her room, slamming the door behind him. A moment later, the door opened and Sirius poked his head back in the room just long enough to say, "And don't you dare mention this crazy idea to Branwen, do you understand?" before leaving and slamming the door again without waiting for a reply.

Tonks just grinned and said to herself, "My, that's an awfully strong reaction for a man who claims to have no romantic feelings for his Professor." She heard a soft chuckle; she couldn't see anyone else in the room with her, but she knew it must be the hob. She rummaged through her desk until she found a box of licorice wands that Fred and George had sent to cheer her up (along with a box of Canary Creams, but she didn't think that Hob would appreciate being turned into a giant canary), and laid one of the wands down beside the fireplace. She turned away, and a moment later, the candy was gone; Tonks smiled.

Hob headed back to his cupboard under the stairs, contentedly munching on the licorice stick. Perhaps the house would not be empty much longer. Sirius was moody because he was lonely (though less so now that his cousin was living with him, but that was only temporary, and besides, a cousin was not the same thing as a wife), and Hob sensed that Lady Blackmore, despite all her power and her outward air of aloofness, was lonely too. They would be perfect for each other, if only they could be made to realize it; Lady Blackmore wouldn't let Sirius get away with sulking and feeling sorry for himself, and Sirius knew how to draw out the normally reserved Lady Blackmore and make her laugh--that is, when he wasn't infuriating her. But they were both very stubborn...

Hob sighed; matchmaking wasn't one of Hob's normal duties and he had no idea how to go about it. He chewed thoughtfully, staring at the remainder of the licorice wand. But maybe Miss Tonks would...

*** 

Blaise Zabini was fine after a night's rest, although of course he remembered nothing of his encounter with the Death Eaters, and his memory of the entire day was a bit fuzzy, but that was just as well. The official story they gave the boy and his housemates was that he'd been ill due to a combination of too many sweets and a touch of fever. Blaise looked a little bewildered, but didn't question that explanation. Snape didn't worry about it too much; even if the boy had suspicions, Blaise was the not the type to voice them publicly, and in any case, Nott would keep him from doing anything foolish. Still, Snape resolved to keep a close eye on Zabini, as he had promised Theodore.

Madam Pomfrey was not pleased with the lie, or with Snape's refusal to tell her who had cast the spell on Blaise; she didn't buy the story about a "juvenile prank," especially since no one had received detention, and Snape was unlikely to let a slight to his House pass unpunished. However, Dumbledore insisted that they keep silent "for the sake of the boy's safety," so she reluctantly acquiesced. She was not a member of the Order, but she knew that these were dangerous times, and she trusted the Headmaster.

Later that day, Snape and Lupin were summoned to the Headmaster's office, and were surprised to find Sirius and Branwen there. 

"Sirius!" Lupin said, sounding startled. "Did something happen? Is Tonks all right?"

"Nothing has happened," Dumbledore replied. "I asked Sirius to come here today. Professor Kamiyama has requested a meeting with a representative of the Order."

"Oh," Lupin said, frowning a little, "I hate to leave my classes when they've been progressing so well, but I suppose it can't be helped."

"I can take over for you," Snape volunteered. "How long do you estimate he'll be gone, Headmaster?"

"No, no," Dumbledore said gently. "You misunderstand; I'm sending Sirius."

"You're sending Black on a diplomatic mission?" Snape asked incredulously, and Sirius scowled at him.

"Is that wise, Albus?" Lupin asked dubiously. Then, catching his friend's wounded look, hastily added, "I mean, er, Tonks will be left alone, unable to use her magic," in an attempt to soften his words.

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. "I'm sure she'll be fine. The house is well protected, and he'll likely only be gone for a few days."

"Black doesn't even speak Japanese," Snape pointed out.

"And I suppose you do?" Sirius retorted.

"Actually, Black, I do," Snape replied in a cool voice. Sirius's eyes widened with surprise. 

"Severus learned while he was working with Naoto on developing the Wolfsbane Potion," Lupin explained, smiling tenderly at Snape, who flushed.

"Oh," Sirius said, giving Snape a startled and thoughtful look. "But Albus tells me that Professor Kamiyama speaks fluent English."

"Some concepts are difficult to translate into another language," Snape said in a slightly haughty tone. "Besides, it's a sign of respect to communicate with someone in their own language." 

Sirius looked even more startled at hearing Snape use the word "respect". Lupin repressed a sigh as he wavered between irritation and amusement. "Severus does have a point, Albus," he said. "If we're trying to persuade the Japanese wizards to join our cause, they will be more receptive to someone who is able to converse in their language. It might look disrespectful, even arrogant, if we send someone who can't."

"This is a private meeting with Professor Kamiyama, not with the entire council of wizards," Dumbledore replied, "and he assures me that he will not be offended. He knows that you and Severus are busy with your obligations to your students, so he is agreeable to meeting with Sirius."

"I still think it's a bad idea," Snape muttered, but fell silent after Lupin nudged him in the side with his elbow.

"I'm sure Sirius will do fine, Severus," Dumbledore said, still smiling. "I admit, I might have been a little hesitant to send him on such a mission last year, but I believe that Sirius has gained some maturity since then."

Snape still looked doubtful, but sighed and said, "Well, Kamiyama is a priest, after all, so I suppose he can handle it, though personally I think it would take a saint to put up with--ouch!" He broke off his sentence as Lupin elbowed him in the side again, a little harder this time.

"I've arranged for Sirius to use the Portkey at the Sakura," Dumbledore said, referring to the London-based Japanese restaurant that acted as a secret portal between the two countries. "But before he goes, I thought perhaps you could familiarize Sirius with the local customs, teach him a few polite greetings, that sort of thing."

Snape looked rather put out, but all he said was, "Yes, Headmaster. When is he leaving?"

"In a few days."

"I have some simple phrase and guidebooks you can borrow," Lupin volunteered helpfully. "And I'll loan you my CD player and language CDs!"

"I'm not gonna have time to learn the language in three days," Sirius protested, but Lupin, caught up in his enthusiasm, was already out the door and heading to his quarters.

Snape had to smile at his lover's retreating form in spite of his irritation. "You can concentrate on memorizing the phrases I'll teach you," he told Sirius. "Please, thank you, I'm honored to meet you--that sort of thing. Kamiyama's not really big on formalities, but still, it's best to be polite, and it will probably please the Japanese wizards to see you making an attempt to learn the language, even if you can't speak it well." 

Sirius nodded, looking about as pleased to be tutored by Snape as Snape was to have to tutor him, but he attentively listened as Snape taught him some formal pleasantries and explained about certain customs, such as removing one's shoes before entering the house, or rinsing one's hands and mouth before entering the temple. Dumbledore and Branwen smiled at the pair like indulgent parents watching their two usually-squabbling children play nicely.

Snape and Sirius shot their former teachers irritated looks in a rare instance of unity. "Get used to sitting and sleeping on the floor," Snape continued as he glared at Branwen, who just smiled back at him sweetly.

"I spent twelve years in a cell at Azkaban," Sirius reminded him. "It'll be heavenly compared to that."

"And it would be polite to bring your host a gift," Snape added.

"All right," Sirius said, carefully keeping his voice civil, although it was a bit of a strain. He was tempted to start an argument just to wipe the smug look off Dumbledore's face, but he supposed that would be childish. Besides, he was finally being given something useful to do after over a year of sitting on his duff, and he wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize that. "What should I get him?"

"Knowing Kamiyama," Snape said dryly, "the largest box of assorted sweets you can find at Honeydukes. Be sure to get him some Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans."

Sirius gave Snape a suspicious look, wondering if Snape was pulling his leg, but the Potions Master looked perfectly serious. "Okay."

Snape frowned, but more in thought than irritation. "And perhaps I should send a gift to his granddaughter, Miyako. She did send us a warning about her vision of the roses, after all." Though like most visions, it had only become clear in hindsight, but still, she had been trying to help, and however vague, the vision had been accurate. The only problem was, Snape had no idea what sort of gift to get a teenage girl. 

Just then, Lupin returned to the office with an armload of books and his CD player and CDs.

"Moony, there's no way I can finish all that before I go!" Sirius objected.

"Then you can take them with you to read and listen to in your spare time," Lupin replied serenely.

"I'd like to send a gift to Miyako--" Snape began.

"You old softie," Lupin said fondly, kissing him on the cheek.

"LUPIN!" Snape snapped, turning red. Branwen and Dumbledore, of course, looked pleased as punch; Black shot Lupin a must-you-do-that-in-public look. "An obligatory gift," Snape huffed, "for sending us that letter of warning during the summer."

"Of course," Lupin said soothingly, his eyes dancing with laughter. "Purely obligatory."

"Exactly," Snape said, giving him a sour look. "But I'm not sure what would be appropriate."

"Hmm," Lupin said thoughtfully. "She's not your average teenage girl."

"You can say that again," Snape muttered. Your "average teenage girl" was not a kitsune-werewolf hybrid, nor a Shinto priestess-in-training.

"I'll take a quick trip to Hogsmeade before Sirius leaves," Lupin said. "If we could find a piece of jewelry shaped like a fox or wolf--like that wolf's head brooch you gave me for Christmas the other year--that would be nice. Or perhaps I can give her one of my carvings."

Snape nodded, and Sirius rose to his feet, carrying Lupin's books and CDs. "I'll be on my way, then," he said. "Just owl the gift or bring it to me before I go." Then he left through the fireplace, almost dropping the stack of books when he had to shift them to one hand to grab a handful of floo powder.

As Lupin and Snape were about to leave the office, Branwen said, "Could I talk to you in private for a moment, Severus?"

"I'll go on ahead, then," Lupin said with a smile. "I'll see you at dinner, Severus."

*** 

Snape eyed Branwen warily when they reached her dungeon office, one level below his. He took a seat in front of her desk, muttering, "Why do I feel like I'm a student about to be scolded?"

Branwen laughed, and instead of sitting behind her desk, came around and casually perched on the edge of it. "Is that better?"

"Marginally," Snape replied sourly. "What do you want?"

"Don't you think it's time that you made peace with Sirius?" Branwen asked gently.

Snape scowled at her. "I work in the Order with him. We managed to live in the same house for most of the summer without killing each other. For Merlin's sake, I saved his life for Lupin's sake! Isn't that enough?"

"For now," Branwen replied. "But I'm not sure that a state of cold war is going to be enough in the long run." Snape was still scowling at her, so she continued patiently, "Sirius is Remus's best friend, Severus. Should we all be lucky enough to survive the war, you three will likely be spending a great deal of time together even after the Order is disbanded."

Snape crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, with the stubborn look on his face that Branwen remembered so well from his schoolboy days. "I accept that Black is Lupin's friend, however little I like it. But I see no reason why I should have to befriend him as well. If you'll recall, he did try to kill me when we were teenagers."

"I know that he apologized to you, Severus," Branwen said quietly.

"And that's supposed to make it all right?" Snape snapped. 

"No, Severus," Branwen replied. "But--"

"Lupin told me I don't have to forgive Black, so I don't see why it's any of your business!"

"The werewolf is softhearted," Branwen said sarcastically, echoing Snape's oft-repeated words, and the Potions Master flushed. "He lets you off easy because he loves you and wants to spare you pain, and because he feels guilty about the pain he caused you, albeit unintentionally. But I am not Remus, and I am not softhearted. Seeing you and Sirius constantly at odds with each other is hard on Remus, even if he doesn't complain."

Snape looked a little guilty, but insisted, "I can't forgive him!"

"I know an apology does not erase all the years of pain you suffered," Branwen said gently, "but he truly is sorry, Severus. He finally understands the magnitude of what he has done."

"I can't forgive him," Snape whispered. "Not 'won't'--'can't'." His voice had changed from the bitter sarcasm of the adult Potions Master and former Death Eater to the stricken voice of the desperately lonely child he had once been. "They tried to take Remus from me. All we had together were a few secret, stolen moments, and they couldn't even let me have that much..."

"Oh, Severus," Branwen whispered sadly. She had heard stories of orphaned children who even after being adopted into a secure and loving family, would hide and hoard food because they could not forget their former life in which they had never known when or where their next meal was coming from. It reminded her of Severus, except that it was love he had been starved of as a child, not food, and it had left him with a hunger that was never completely assuaged. She reached out, cupping his face between her hands. "I'm so sorry, dear. I know how much it must have hurt." She brushed the hair back from his face and tenderly kissed him on the forehead; it was a sign of his vulnerability that he accepted the caress without his usual bluster or complaints.

Snape would have told anyone else, save Lupin, "You don't know how I feel," but he believed Branwen. Despite all his complaints about her voyeurism and meddling, he secretly cherished all her motherly nagging and protectiveness. _Why did I never notice before,_ he asked himself, _how much she cared about me?_

Because now he saw what his younger self had failed to notice: how she had gone out of her way to praise and encourage him during class, how she had taken the time to speak with him after class to compliment his progress or share an advanced textbook with him, and how she had tried to prevent him from throwing away his relationship with Lupin for the false friendship of the Death Eaters. And he had been touched--after he had gotten over being mortified, that is--to discover how Branwen had worried and watched over himself and Lupin during her fourteen-year absence from the wizarding world.

"I know I should probably let it go," Snape said wearily. "But I can't. And I know I am at fault, too, for rejecting Lupin..."

"The life you led was not one conducive to trust," Branwen said, still in that gentle voice. "I know that, and so does Remus. But Severus...you are wrong when you say that 'they' tried to take Remus from you. I know you have little reason to trust Sirius, but will you believe me when I tell you that James did not know about the so-called prank?"

Snape closed his eyes for a moment, gritting his teeth. He did not want to believe it; he wanted, needed to believe that Potter was the enemy, that his saving Snape's life had been due to selfishness and not heroism. But this was Branwen, who would not be blinded by love for Potter, as Lupin and Dumbledore might. Finally he opened his eyes and reluctantly said, "Yes," but couldn't resist adding, "not that he would have ever tolerated me having a relationship with one of his friends."

"Probably not," Branwen conceded, "but we'll never know. Perhaps in time he might have matured and lost that Gryffindor narrow-mindedness. But thanks in part to you, Sirius has had the chance to grow up and mature." Snape looked a little affronted, and Branwen laughed. "You know, I think James would consider your debt to him paid, since you saved his best friend's life." 

Snape cheered up a little as he considered that. "Hmm, I suppose that's true. Though I sort of like the thought of Black owing me one; I hate to let him off the hook."

Branwen smiled for a moment, but her face soon grew serious again. "I don't expect you to forgive him right away, Severus. I told him once that some things cannot be mended by words alone. I don't expect you to just take his word for it that he's changed. But will you do something for me, Severus?"

"What?" he asked warily, certain that it was going to be something he didn't like but could not refuse.

"Will you keep an open mind? Will you give Sirius a chance to prove with his actions as well as his words that he has matured and changed?" Snape was silent, so Branwen added, "As Albus and Remus gave you the chance to prove that you changed?" Snape scowled, and Branwen sighed. She was more patient with Severus because he had suffered more than Sirius, and as a young teacher she had secretly had a soft spot for the guarded Slytherin boy who tried to disguise his loneliness with a veneer of arrogance and sarcasm. But the truth was that he was just as stubborn as Sirius. "You and Sirius are more alike than either of you realize, Severus."

"I am not like Black!" he said indignantly, although he was uncomfortably aware that Lupin had once told him the same thing.

"Do you know why Sirius played that 'prank' on you?" 

"He couldn't stand his precious friend being sullied by the touch of a slimy Slytherin," Snape said sulkily.

"No," Branwen said softly, shaking her head. "He was jealous."

"Jealous of what?" Snape asked in confusion. "Why should he be jealous of me?" A hint of the old jealousy and resentment entered Snape's voice. "He was handsome, popular, everybody loved him--"

"Not everyone," Branwen interrupted. "He was an outcast in his own family." Snape blinked and stared at her in surprise. "You know what the Blacks were like; you must have met them on occasion when you were a child, and you've seen that portrait of his mother..."

"Begone from the house of my fathers," Snape said, mockingly echoing Mrs. Black's favorite phrase.

Branwen smiled. "Exactly. Sirius was, if you will pardon the pun, the black sheep of the family; a Gryffindor in a long line of Slytherins and Dark Wizards."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?"

Branwen ignored that slightly sarcastic remark, and continued, "He left home when he was sixteen and his family disowned him."

Snape shifted in his seat uneasily. "Well, but he had Potter and Lupin and his other friends..."

"True, but being rejected by your blood relatives, by the people who are supposed to love and protect you, leaves a scar no matter how many good friends you have." Snape squirmed under the intense gaze of Branwen's piercing green eyes. "As you should well know, Severus."

"So what are you saying, Branwen?" Snape asked, flushing.

"He was afraid of losing Remus to you," Branwen said bluntly.

Snape stared at her in shock. "But Black's not...I thought...he only seemed interested in girls..." 

"I'm not talking about sex, you idiot!" Branwen snapped. "He loved Remus like a brother; Remus and James and Peter were Sirius's surrogate family, and he was afraid of losing them, since he had already lost his real family. Thanks to all that foolish House rivalry the school instills in the heads of our children, there was an uncrossable line drawn between Gryffindor and Slytherin in his mind. He did not believe that Remus could love you and still be loyal to him. He didn't believe that Remus could love the both of you at the same time. So he managed to punish Remus for his disloyalty and drive you away from his friend at the same time."

Snape just sat there in stunned silence. Black was insecure? Black who had seemed so arrogant and confident in school, who had taken the adulation of the other students for granted? The other boys had vied for the attention of their chosen crushes; even Potter, the golden boy, had to exert himself in order to win over Lily Evans, the one girl who didn't think he walked on water. 

But Black had never bothered; he had gone through a string of girlfriends in school--much as Evan Rosier had, before he fell in love with Ariane--and when he tired of one, it seemed like all he had to do was snap his fingers, and another would eagerly step up to take her place. He had impressed the male students almost as easily; the younger Gryffindor boys were eager to run errands for the most popular boy in school, perhaps hoping that some of his glory might rub off on them, and Snape had hated how Lupin (along with Pettigrew) had seemed to look up to Black and Potter.

Had it been an act, a cover all along? Snape had thought Black had taken Lupin's friendship for granted along with everything else; he himself had been sure at the time that Lupin would never choose Snape over his friends, which was why he had been so quick to believe the worst of Lupin. Snape flushed with shame; he wanted to castigate Black for being so selfish and treating Lupin so badly...except that he was no better himself. He had tried to force Lupin to choose between him and Black; he had spitefully exposed Lupin's lycanthropy and and cost Lupin his job to punish him for helping the then-fugitive Black. The thought of himself and Black being so similar made Snape feel very, very uncomfortable; in a way, it felt even worse than owing James Potter his life.

Branwen seemed to understand the struggle going on in his mind, because she said, "Just think about what I've said, all right, Severus?" Snape nodded mutely and got to his feet, but as he was about to leave the office, she said, "Oh, and Severus?"

"Yes, Branwen?" he said with a sigh that was more resigned than irritated.

"I don't blame you for hating James," his former teacher said quietly. "Merlin knows he gave you enough reason to. But don't you think it's time that you stopped hating Harry for who his father is?"

"Potter is--" he began defensively, but Branwen quickly cut him off.

"Mischievous and disobedient, and at times, insolent. But so are the Weasleys--well, except for Ginny and Percy--and however much you dislike them, you don't actually hate them."

Snape sighed again. Even as a friend offering compassion, Branwen was in some ways still the implacable Professor he remembered. She had never let anyone off easy--students, fellow teachers, or parents--and she always spoke the truth as she saw it, however little the person she was speaking to wanted to hear it, which had not exactly made her popular among her peers. "When I look at Potter, I can't help but see his father," Snape admitted; he would not have confessed it to anyone else.

"They look alike, but they are not the same," she said firmly. "James grew up adored by all, which I admit inflated his ego; Harry grew up an unwanted orphan--his aunt and uncle made him live in a cupboard, for Merlin's sake! Harry is stubborn, yes, and he has James's penchant for breaking the rules, but if you look closely, Severus, he doesn't share James's arrogance. Have you ever seen him hex someone just for the fun of it? And being brought up outside of the wizarding world, he is free of some its prejudices--he stood by both Remus and Hagrid when their secrets were revealed."

Snape couldn't argue with that, but he did point out, "He does have the usual bias against Slytherin."

Branwen sighed. "That is partly the influence of the other Gryffindors, and of course he and Mr. Malfoy did not exactly hit it off on the first day of school." Snape snorted derisively at that understatement. "And of course, you haven't done much to dissuade him of that image yourself, Severus," she said accusingly. Snape opened his mouth, and Branwen added, "And don't tell me that you're just keeping your cover with the Death Eaters, although that is partly true. But only partly. You go out of your way to find fault with him, far more than you do with the other Gryffindors, because he reminds you of James."

Branwen watched Snape, who was flushing and staring at his feet like a schoolboy being scolded. He knew that she was right; it would just take awhile for him to admit it to himself, but she thought that secretly he might welcome the chance to let go of his hatred and start over again. "He isn't like James," she said gently, reaching up to touch his cheek. Sometimes it startled her how tall he was; she often had to remind herself that he was a man now, and no longer the child she remembered. But she could not help but think of Severus, Remus, and Sirius as her children still, although she supposed it was a bit silly. "He was wrong to look in the Pensieve, but he was horrified by how his father had behaved. If he was truly like James, he would have just laughed it off."

Snape ground his teeth in frustration but remained silent, because she was right, damn her! But it was difficult to let go of the hatred he had so carefully nursed all these years because...why? He wasn't entirely sure; so he could blame someone besides himself for the loss of Lupin, he supposed, and because the hatred had helped to keep the pain at bay, otherwise he would have gone insane from missing Lupin. But, as Branwen had pointed out, the person he really hated was James, not Harry, who was just a convenient substitute. Snape thought to himself sourly that perhaps he had grown a little too good at lying, because he had managed to deceive himself almost as much as he had the Death Eaters.

"Fine," he said caustically. "Forgive Black; stop hating Potter. Anything else you'd like me to add to my to-do list, Professor?"

"That will do for now, dear," Branwen replied with an amused smile. 

"Fine," Snape repeated, in a rather huffy voice, and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Severus?"

"What now?!" Snape snapped.

She stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "I just wanted to say, that despite all my scolding, I do love you, Severus, and I'm very proud of you."

Snape's jaw dropped open, and Branwen grinned at him. Then his face turned bright red and he stammered, "I...um...ah..." Finally, he managed to get his wits about him, cleared his throat, and said gruffly, "What brought that on?"

Branwen's mischievous grin vanished, and she said in a solemn voice. "It's the truth, and I just wanted you to know that. I have always cared about you, about all my students, but I never said so back then. Perhaps if I had, it might have made a difference...to you, to Evan, to Lyall. I am sorry, Severus. Perhaps if I had been more open with you, if I had tried harder--"

"Stop torturing yourself, Branwen!" Snape interrupted. "Weren't you the one who was just telling me to stop dwelling on the past?"

"That's not exactly what I said," she replied, but she looked a little sheepish.

"You did try to help us, Branwen," Snape said in an almost gentle voice that would have shocked his students if they could have heard him. "But we refused to listen; it's not your fault. Even after we became Death Eaters, you still tried to save us when most people would have condemned us. If you can forgive me and Evan and Lyall, if you can even forgive Lorcan Foley for trying to kill you, can't you forgive yourself?"

"You _have_ matured, Severus," Branwen murmured, smiling up at him a little sadly. "You're right, of course; I once scolded Remus for wallowing in self-pity and tormenting himself with what-ifs about the past, and here I am doing the same thing. But you see, for me, the memories are still fresh even though they happened over fifteen years ago. It was difficult to keep track of time in Araqiel's realm; sometimes, mostly when I was watching over you in my grandfather's magical pool, time seemed to flow at a normal rate, and at other times, years would pass by in the blink of an eye. When I finally returned home, it felt to me as if I had been gone for only months, not years. Even though I had watched you and Sirius and Remus grow up in the scrying pool, it felt to me as if you were still children, still my students. To you, Evan and Lyall have been dead for years, but to me, it seems like almost yesterday."

"I'm sorry, Branwen," Snape said, in a subdued and chastened voice. He was used to thinking of her as the omnipotent, near-invincible Professor Blackmore, and not as a woman with regrets and vulnerabilities. Lupin had once told him that the years had passed her by, leaving most of her friends and all of her family dead. For the first time, Snape stopped to consider how hard it must have been for her to step out of time and return to a world vastly changed from the one she had known.

"I'm not," she said, smiling a bit more sincerely now. "I mean, I am sorry that I could not save Evan and the others. But don't pity me for the years I lost; I am alive, when by all rights, I should be dead. And I am glad to know you, Severus--and Sirius and Remus, of course--as friends and equals, and not just my students. I never had many friends in the old days--not close ones, anyway."

"I am honored to be your friend, Branwen," Snape said quietly, and surprised both of them by impulsively bending down to kiss her cheek. She stared at him in amazement, and Snape felt his face turn red again. "If you ever tell anyone I did that," he grumbled, "I will deny it most vociferously. And no one will believe you, anyway."

"I think Albus and Remus might," she laughed. "But it will be our little secret. And I am honored to be your friend as well."

Snape hastily left her office, and this time she didn't stop him. But although he was still loathe to make peace with Black and Potter, he was no longer angry at her for forcing him to do so.

*** 

Lupin did not find a piece of jewelry for Miyako, but he did find a very nice little porcelain figurine of a fox that had a very lifelike, mischievous gleam in its dark eyes. So Sirius dutifully packed up Miyako's gift, along with a big box of candy for Professor Kamiyama, as well as the books and CDs Lupin had loaned him. He hugged Tonks and promised to bring back souvenirs for her and Hob, and she promised to keep up his agreement with the little household spirit, and leave Hob's gift beside the fire every night.

He Apparated to the restaurant, and the hostess, Haruko, led him to the Portkey. As he followed her, he noted how pretty she was and how gracefully she moved, and idly thought to himself that maybe he should stop by to have a meal sometime. He shuddered a little, thinking of how Tonks had proposed pairing him up with Branwen, and wondered where she had gotten such a ridiculous idea from. It was absolutely ludicrous; he did not think of Branwen that way, and besides, she would probably laugh in his face if he ever tried to ask her out on a date. 

"Here is the Portkey," Haruko said, and Sirius sternly reminded himself to keep his mind on business. As he had told Tonks, this was war, and there was no time for romance.

He touched the painting that was the Portkey, and found himself in Japan a moment later. As he trudged up the long, winding path that led to the temple, he found himself panting and sweating a little, and had to cast a spell on his bags to make them lighter. _I'm a little out of shape,_ he thought to himself, chagrined. Well, that was what came of being confined to the house for a year, but he resolved to get back in shape; he had once been a star athlete, after all. 

Professor Kamiyama greeted him at the top of the hill; the old man looked quite fit despite his gray hair and wrinkles--and no wonder, if he regularly hiked up and down the mountain paths. "You must be Mr. Black," Kamiyama said cheerfully. "I'm very pleased to meet you." Sirius bowed and haltingly rattled off the polite greeting Snape had taught him. The old priest looked pleased and surprised. "I was told you did not speak Japanese."

"I don't," Sirius replied. "But Remus and Snape--er, Professor Snape--taught me a few polite phrases."

"Yes, Remus is quite adept with languages," Kamiyama said as he led Sirius to the house. "I was sorry to lose his services as a translator, but I'm glad that he got his old job back. I know how much he enjoys teaching." His dark eyes twinkled mischievously. "And of course, he and Severus must be happy to be back together again. I'm sure it was difficult for them to live apart for so long." He chuckled a little as Sirius's jaw dropped open.

So Kamiyama knew that the pair were lovers; Remus had failed to mention that little detail. What's more, the old man clearly approved. Sirius thought to himself darkly that sometimes it seemed like the entire world was rooting for those two: old Dumbledore playing matchmaker by bringing Moony back to the school three years ago, no doubt hoping that he and Snape would patch up their differences; Branwen looking infuriatingly smug and pleased with herself every time she caught sight of the pair getting all lovey-dovey with each other; Hermione and Ginny, who seemed to find it all very romantic, acting silly and giggling together about it; and now it appeared that Professor Kamiyama had joined the Snape-Lupin fan club as well.

Sirius followed Kamiyama into the house, remembering to leave his shoes at the door without being asked. Kamiyama's daughter and granddaughter greeted him politely and served him tea. Tsuneko was a handsome woman with fox-red hair, and Miyako was a solemn-faced girl about Harry's age. Seeing her reminded Sirius about the gifts he had brought, and presented the box of candy to his host with the this-is-just-a-small-token-of-my-appreciation speech Snape had made him memorize.

"Thank you very much!" Kamiyama said, beaming at him happily. "How kind of you!" He opened the box and added, "Ah, I see you included my favorite, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans."

Tsuneko sighed and said, "Please don't spoil your appetite, Father. Dinner will be ready soon."

"Don't lecture your aged father, cub," Kamiyama said good-naturedly and popped a bean in his mouth. "Hmm," he said, chewing thoughtfully, "I've never tasted this one before. Liver, perhaps?"

Miyako shuddered a little, and Sirius had to repress a laugh. "And this is for you," he said, handing her the small box Lupin had given him. "A gift from Professors Lupin and Snape, to thank you for warning them about your vision of the roses."

"Thank you," she said. "I hope that it was helpful." She opened the box and took out the porcelain fox. "Oh, it's beautiful!"

Sirius smiled. "Remus will be pleased that you like it."

"I do like it, very much! I will have to write Lupin-sensei and Snape-sensei a thank-you letter."

They spoke only of inconsequential matters at dinner that night; Kamiyama said he wanted to give Sirius a chance to rest and get settled in before discussing business. Sirius would have preferred to get right down to business, but followed his host's lead and held his impatience in check. He knew that Snape, and even Remus, doubted his ability to pull off this mission, and there was no way he was going to go home in disgrace and let Snape say, "I told you so!"

They made small talk about the school where Tsuneko worked and where Kamiyama, though officially retired from teaching, still taught a few classes every now and then. And the Kamiyamas inquired as to how Lupin and Snape were doing; to Sirius's surprise, the family seemed quite fond of both of the men.

"Remus is doing very well," he replied. "He's teaching his students defensive magic, including the Patronus Charm. A bit advanced for their level, but they're doing surprisingly well. My godson tells me that Remus is quite popular with the students, despite the fact that his lycanthropy was made public." _Thanks to Snape,_ he added bitterly, but only to himself.

"A most encouraging sign," Kamiyama said with a smile. "Perhaps the younger generation, being more flexible, will be able to overcome their parents' prejudices."

"And how is Snape-sensei?" Miyako asked.

"Um, the same as always, I suppose," Sirius said a little awkwardly. "Still teaching Potions." _And terrorizing his students,_ he added silently.

"We're so grateful to Professor Snape," Tsuneko said, "for helping my father with the Wolfsbane Potion."

"I would never have been able to develop it without his help," Kamiyama said, and he and his daughter both gazed fondly at Miyako.

Of course; no wonder they were so grateful to Snape. Sirius had almost forgotten that Miyako was a werewolf herself--or half-werewolf, at least. It was a little odd to be around people who knew only the good side of Snape and regarded him as a hero. He took a bite of his dinner, or tried to--he was having trouble with the chopsticks, and kept dropping his food back into the bowl.

Miyako smiled at him kindly and said, "Here, try holding them like this, Black-san. You keep the bottom chopstick steady between your thumb and middle finger, and move only the top chopstick--like so."

"Ah, thanks, that helps," Sirius said gratefully. "And please call me Sirius; no one calls me 'Mr. Black' at home. Er--if that's not a breach of custom or anything."

"In a formal meeting with the council, it might be," Kamiyama said, "but here, you are among friends. So we will call you Sirius, but you must call us by our names as well."

"Ah, thank you, Naoto," Sirius said, a little surprised by the declaration of friendship from a man he had just met.

The priest seemed to read his mind. "Any friend of Remus's and Severus's is a friend of ours," he said cheerfully.

Sirius flushed and turned his attention back to his dinner. Snape was not his friend, but he couldn't think of a way to contradict that statement without being rude or making himself look bad.

Since Sirius was staring down at his food, he didn't notice the three kitsune exchange amused and mischievous glances.

*** 

They finally got around to discussing business the following morning. "You know that my people are reluctant to get involved in a war, Sirius," Kamiyama said gravely, "but our diviners and Seers--including my own granddaughter--have read the signs, and they tell us that your Lord Voldemort is a threat to us all."

"He's not 'our' Lord Voldemort," Sirius said, a little pointedly. "While his attention is focused on Britain for the moment, he will not be content until the entire world is under his sway--"

"I know that, Sirius," Kamiyama interrupted, but he did not look offended. "But it is difficult for us; our country was decimated during World War II--it affected all of us, not just the ippanjin, what you call Muggles. The Japanese constitution allows the military to act only in self-defense. We wizards are not necessarily bound by ippanjin rules, but still, we cannot enter into a war lightly." 

"I understand that," Sirius said, fighting to keep his voice calm and patient. "We aren't asking you to do this lightly."

"I know," Kamiyama replied. "As I said, my people now believe in the threat. The problem is, I'm not sure what kind of help we can offer. Our numbers are limited, and not many of us specialize in combative magics. Another problem is that for some us, particularly those of us descended from non-human ancestors, our power is tied to the land. For example, a witch descended from a river spirit will have considerably weakened powers away from her home village and the river of her ancestors. We kitsune are more mobile, of course, but as a priest, part of my powers are granted to me by my god, Inari, and my power is strongest here, in my homeland and near my temple."

"But surely there must be something you can do," Sirius said in frustration. "Believe me, you don't want Voldemort setting foot in your homeland, no matter how strong your powers might be here! And if he conquers Britain and Europe, he will be all the more powerful when he finally reaches Asia!"

"I know that," Kamiyama said gravely. "Here are the strengths of my people: Divination, protective magics, healing magics, and illusion. We kitsune have long used illusion and trickery to beguile and mislead our enemies. But where is the enemy? Voldemort and the Death Eaters, as I understand it, are in hiding. The tengu are the warriors of we magical folk, and some of them have indicated that they are willing to fight--but you have no battlefield to send them to. So you see, Sirius, it is not so simple as fighting or not fighting."

Sirius slowly nodded. "I see what you mean. You have clearly given this a lot of thought, Naoto. What do you suggest?"

"There are things we can do," Kamiyama replied. "We can brew healing potions and salves, for no doubt you will need them when the war begins to escalate. And we can also send you healers when that happens. If I may lay aside modesty for the moment, I would say that my people are unparalleled in the field of protective magics." He held up one of the little omamori good-luck charms the temple sold: a prayer inscribed on a slip of paper, tucked into a decorative brocade bag. 

"These are simply for the tourists; they have no real magic, save the faith of the people who buy them--which can work an odd sort of magic all its own, but that is beside the point. I and my fellow priests and mages can make real, far more powerful charms of protection for your people, and I can send mages to help put wards of protection on places that you feel are vulnerable. I will have our Seers continue to perform their rituals, and keep you informed of what they See. And--I will send those of my people willing to fight when the time comes, but you must go to Dumbledore and the Order and ask them to consider the best and most efficient way they can put our resources to work."

"I will do that," Sirius said, all his anger and impatience gone. "Thank you. I'm sorry if I seemed a bit curt earlier. You're right; even if you sent us an army, we wouldn't know what to do with it. The Death Eaters strike in stealth, and then flee. And not even Snape can find their headquarters unless Voldemort summons him." Sirius sighed. "It's hard, fighting an enemy that doesn't fight fair. They framed my cousin for the prison break that freed the Death Eaters, you know."

"Yes, I know," Kamiyama said. "The Headmaster wrote and told me about it. I'm very sorry, Sirius. I hope her name will be cleared soon."

"Me too," sighed Sirius.

"I don't blame you for feeling frustrated, Sirius," Kamiyama continued. "I know how much harm Voldemort and the Death Eaters did to your country, and to you and your friends personally. Let us work together to stop them." He held out his hand, and Sirius clasped it.

"Thank you," said Sirius. "I will take your message back to Dumbledore."

"Don't rush off just yet, Sirius," Kamiyama said with a smile. "I have some friends who want to meet you, and besides, surely you can take a little time to relax and pick up some omiyage, some souvenirs, to take back home to your friends."

Sirius wanted to retort that he didn't have time to sight-see, but he didn't want to offend his new ally, and Snape had told him to humor the old priest, who was a bit eccentric. And eccentric or not, Dumbledore, Lupin, and Snape all seemed to trust and respect him, and apparently the Japanese wizards did as well, if they had given him the authority to be their spokesperson and negotiate the type of aid they would provide to the Order. "As you wish," he said a little stiffly. He remembered Snape scoffing at the idea of him being entrusted with a diplomatic mission, and tried for a more pleasant tone, saying, "Of course I would be delighted to meet your friends."

Kamiyama looked amused, so he probably wasn't fooled, but at least he wasn't offended, either. "Miyako would like to speak to you as well." As if on cue, the girl entered the room, carrying a tray of tea and cookies. Sirius accepted a cup of tea and looked at her curiously.

"I have been having dreams," she said. "At first, just dreams of snakes and skulls, a general warning about the Dark Lord. And then, the dreams about the bloody roses."

"Yes," Sirius said grimly, "we've discovered what those dreams meant. The roses are a magical weapon of sorts. Unfortunately, we weren't able to stop Voldemort from getting his hands on it."

"I'm sorry," Miyako said. "The Sight is not often clear."

"Divination rarely is," Sirius said. "But it's not your fault." He had a rather low opinion of Divination in general, but Lupin seemed to think that the girl's gift was real, and she already had a better track record than Professor Trelawney.

"But I've recently had another dream," Miyako said. "A dream of a child, not yet born, who could turn the tide of the war."

"What?" Sirius asked, shocked. "But--that would be Harry, except that's he certainly been born already, and he's almost a man now, not a baby--"

"I don't know what it means," Miyako said helplessly, then in a firmer voice, "but I know the child is not Harry Potter." 

Sirius started to protest, feeling a little affronted, though he wasn't sure why; Harry certainly didn't care about being a hero, and being their main hope against Voldemort put him in constant danger. But after all his godson had suffered, being brought up in exile by hateful relatives, being attacked by Voldemort and his minions--had it all been for nothing? After all that, some other child was going to defeat Voldemort and win the war? "But Harry--"

"I know the stories about how Harry Potter survived Voldemort's attack as a baby," Miyako said quietly. "I'm not saying that he won't be the one to defeat the Dark Lord. But this child I dreamed of is somehow important to the war, though I don't know why. She will be in great danger--"

"She?" Sirius asked, startled. "It's a girl?"

"Yes," Miyako said firmly, though she looked a little startled herself, as if this was a new revelation to her. "A girl; I'm sure of it. You must guard her and her mother well. If the Dark Lord learns of their existence, he will slay them."

"I don't suppose you can tell me who the mother is?" Sirius asked, without much hope.

"No," Miyako replied apologetically. "I'm sorry, but that's all I know. I'll meditate and cast for signs, but I am young, and the Sight is difficult to control."

"Even experienced Seers cannot make the visions come at their bidding," her grandfather said gently. "That is not how the Sight works. It is a gift, granted by the gods, and the gods rarely make things easy for us, for we would learn nothing if they did."

"Well, I wish they would make things just a little bit clearer," Sirius grumbled, then remembered he was supposed to be behaving diplomatically. "But I'm grateful for the warning. I'll pass it on to Dumbledore, and I guess we'll have to be on the lookout for newborn girl wizards." He grinned ruefully and said, "At least we know it's a girl; that cuts down our search by half!"

Miyako smiled at him, and that seemed to conclude their conference. He spent the rest of the day "relaxing" as Kamiyama suggested. Miyako took him to visit the nearby village, giving him some Japanese yen in exchange for his Galleons, and he tried the local cuisine and bought a few souvenirs for his friends. The locals eyed the oddly dressed stranger curiously, but seemed to take it in stride when they found out he was a guest of the Kamiyamas; apparently they were used to the priest having odd visitors. Everyone was friendly to him, and some of the children tried out the English they were learning in school on him. He returned the favor by trying out his meager knowledge of Japanese on them, and they giggled, but good-naturedly, at his no doubt atrocious accent.

He did feel a little better when he returned to the temple grounds; it had been nice to spend some time with people who didn't know him as a notorious (though falsely-accused) criminal, who didn't look at him with fear in their eyes. Miyako gave him a tour of the temple and the grounds, and Sirius threw a coin in the offering box and offered up a quick prayer. He wasn't a religious man, but he figured he could use all the help he could get. He tried to buy one of the omamori charms (for success in exams) for Harry, but Kamiyama refused to accept his money, and gave it to him as a gift. Miyako smiled--looking surprisingly mischievous for such a quiet, serious girl--and handed him another charm.

"This one is very popular, too," she said.

"What is it?" he asked curiously.

"Safe childbirth," she replied, grinning at his startled expression. "Not for you, of course! For the mother of the child-to-be, when you find her."

"Ah, of course," he said, returning her grin. "I'll hold on to it, till we find her, then." Of course, Kamiyama had already told him that those charms had no real magic, but it cheered him up nonetheless, as if having the charm made it more likely that he would find the mother for whom it was intended.

*** 

Sirius got a big surprise when Kamiyama's friends showed up for dinner; his host did not warn him about his guests' unusual nature, probably on purpose--Lupin had told him that kitsune in general, and Kamiyama in particular, had a mischievous streak. At first they appeared to be more-or-less normal people. Kamiyama introduced them by first names only: Karasu, a fierce-looking young man with a long, beak-like nose and black hair tied in a topknot; Chizuru, a tall, beautiful young woman with fair skin and glossy black hair that fell like a waterfall straight down to her ankles; and Satoshi, a plump, cheerful looking man of indeterminate age. Karasu and Chizuru seemed to be dressed in traditional Japanese garb; Karasu in a short blue kimono, and Chizuru in a long, white silk kimono with black trim on the sleeves and hem. Satoshi, on the other hand, was dressed in western-style Muggle garb, like most of the people Sirius had met in the village.

"Show him your true forms," Kamiyama said, and suddenly before him stood a man with a crow's head and wings; an elegant white crane that had red and black markings on its head, and black-tipped feathers on its wings; and a plump raccoon-like animal. Sirius's jaw dropped, and he gaped at them dumbly as they transformed back into their human forms. Kamiyama smiled at him. "Karasu is a tengu, one of the bird-men, whom the ippanjin call mountain demons. His name, appropriately means 'crow'. Chizuru's name means 'thousand cranes' and obviously, she is a crane maiden. Satoshi is a cousin of sorts, a fellow trickster like the kitsune. He is a tanuki, a raccoon dog and shapeshifter." Satoshi grinned and bowed.

"And your name means 'raccoon'?" Sirius guessed.

"No, it means 'clever,'" Satoshi laughed. 

"Tanuki always think they are smarter than everyone else," Karasu muttered.

"Well, we are!" Satoshi said happily. "We live among the humans and they don't even notice!"

"Tanuki are clever," Kamiyama said, looking amused. "They are tricksters like the kitsune, although sometimes they are too clever for their own good, and their tricks backfire on them. Of course, the same can be said of the kitsune, I must admit."

"I see," said Sirius, still feeling a little dazed. "And you wish to help us fight Voldemort?"

"Karasu is the only warrior among us," Chizuru said, "though of course we will do what we can. But Naoto has another purpose in mind for us."

Sirius still looked confused, and Karasu said bluntly, "He wants us to knock some sense into that Ministry of yours. They have a problem with non-humans, I hear."

"He wants us to talk to the Ministry about how the human and non-human wizards live in harmony here in Japan," Satoshi said cheerfully. "Show them what good and productive citizens we are and all that. Hell, half the wizards in Japan are descended from non-humans, anyway! Where else do you think they got their magic powers from?"

That was a slightly disturbing thought; did that mean that the ancestors of the British wizards had been non-humans also? That would surely outrage the stuffed shirts at the Ministry! "You might not want to mention that to them," Sirius suggested.

Satoshi just grinned gleefully, and Karasu complained, "If they're such snobs, why are we bothering to help them?"

"Because there are innocent lives at stake, Karasu," Kamiyama replied sternly.

"Not everyone thinks the way the Ministry does," Sirius hastened to assure the tengu. "The problem is, they're the ones that hold the power in my country."

"Politicians," Karasu said in a disgusted tone of voice.

"They exist everywhere, unfortunately," Tsuneko said dryly. "But it is not just the lives of the British wizards that are at stake, Karasu. Voldemort will become a threat to our people too, if we do not stop him now."

"Fine," Karasu sighed. "We'll go and try to convince these 'politicians'--" He said it as if it were a dirty word. "--to give your non-humans equal rights so they'll help fight in the war. And--" He grinned fiercely. "--we'll talk to your non-humans, show them that they don't have to settle for being second-class citizens, teach them to stand up for their rights."

Sirius repressed a sigh, hoping that Karasu didn't start a mutiny among the non-humans--a war within a war, that was all they needed! And he was a little worried that Satoshi might decide to start playing tricks on Cornelius Fudge. 

_And Snape thinks I'M a bad diplomat!_ he thought with amusement. _Something's wrong, when I'm the most responsible one in the room!_ Well, that was not quite true; Chizuru, at least, seemed sensible. She certainly had the dignified air a diplomat should have.

"Very well," Sirius said. "I'll talk to Dumbledore and make the arrangements."

"Good," Kamiyama said. "When you're ready, send me a message."  "How exciting," said Satoshi, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "I've never been to England before. I'm looking forward to seeing your famous Hogwarts School."

"Hogwarts?" Sirius asked, puzzled.

"Oh, didn't I mention?" Kamiyama said with a twinkle in his eye. "Our three emissaries have also volunteered to teach their specialties to your students and those members of the Order who desire it. Chizuru is a healer, and Satoshi, of course, is an illusionist. As for Karasu, the tengu are famous in folklore for having taught martial arts and strategy to some of the greatest warriors in Japan."

"I'm not sure how well that will go over with the school governors," Sirius said dubiously. "And meaning no disrespect, I'm not sure that martial arts will be much help against the Death Eaters."

"Of course I am a mage as well as a warrior, but you might be surprised at how well a physical attack can work when the victim isn't expecting it," Karasu replied with a bloodthirsty grin. "It's pretty hard to cast a spell with your head cracked open or a sword run through your gut. Of course, it is a bit risky getting close enough to the wizard to attack him..."

Sirius shuddered a little, but this was war, after all. The Death Eaters certainly wouldn't show any mercy to them. "I'll present your offer to the Headmaster," he said, wondering what Dumbledore would make of their surprising proposal.

Sirius spent the rest of the evening answering questions about England and Hogwarts and the Ministry, and the three emissaries in turn told him a little about their lives. It seemed that the tengu and the crane people kept to themselves in the mountains, and did not like to mingle much with normal humans, while the tanuki had adapted and blended into modern-day society. Satoshi had been living in Tokyo disguised as a human, and had even worked at a string of Muggle jobs, but he quickly got bored and rarely stayed in one place for long.

"That means," Karasu said sardonically, "that he gets caught swindling the customers or flirting with the boss's wife, and has to run off to save his little tanuki hide." Satoshi just chuckled.

Chizuru just smiled patiently at her two more boisterous companions and explained in a quiet voice that she was an instructor at the Japanese school of magic, Mahou Gakkou, but that Kamiyama had asked her to take a leave of absence to serve on this special mission. Sirius noticed that both the tengu and the tanuki left off their bantering to pay attention when she spoke, and looked at her with admiration. She certainly was lovely, and she performed even the smallest, simplest gesture, such as lifting her tea cup to her lips, with an air of deliberate grace. After dinner was over, and the three guests prepared to leave, Satoshi offered to see her home as Karasu scowled.

"Thank you, but that will not be necessary," she said with a gentle smile. She stepped out the door onto the front porch, transformed into her crane form, and flew off towards the mountains. Sirius stared after her in awe; she was remarkably beautiful and graceful in both her forms.

"She's out of your league, boy," Karasu said in a gruff voice, but clapped him on the shoulder in a good-natured way.

"Oh, but I'm not," Sirius hastily demurred, "uh, I mean, I don't--"

"Out of your league, too, crow-boy," Satoshi said cheerfully.

"Out of all our leagues," Karasu agreed ruefully. Then he and the tanuki departed as well.

Sirius just shook his head and went back in the house. It was late, so Kamiyama suggested that he stay and get a good night's rest before returning to London in the morning.

*** 

Meanwhile, unaware that his godfather was out of the country, Harry was finding school to be challenging and sometimes frustrating. He was doing well in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but struggling to keep up in Potions and Incantations. Harry had found his fifth-year Potions class difficult enough, but Snape drove his advanced students even harder, and of course Snape was quick to point out any mistakes that Harry made. However, Harry tried not to let Snape unnerve him; ironically, the control he had been learning in his Occlumency lessons helped him to keep his temper in check, and he was a little less intimidated by his teacher after spending the summer with him in Sirius's house.

Whenever he felt himself becoming nervous and angry as Snape loomed over him, he tried to picture the scene he remembered from the night of the full moon--an indignant Snape lying flat on his back fending off the "attack" of an overly-affectionate werewolf covering his face with enthusiastic swipes of his tongue--and suddenly, the black-clad Potions Master would no longer seem quite so menacing. (Harry was careful not to meet Snape's eyes at those times, though; he doubted that Snape would be amused by that image.) So Harry was making less mistakes in Potions than he used to, but he was still overwhelmed by the amount of homework Snape assigned. However, he was slightly cheered by the fact that so far, Snape had not yet found an excuse to give him or Ron detention.

Professor Blackmore drove her students just as hard as Snape did, though of course she treated them much more fairly. As she had warned them on the first day of class, she expected to have their undivided attention at all times; she would not stop to explain something twice because a student happened to be daydreaming or whispering to a friend in the middle of her lecture. In fact, if she caught them at it, which she usually did, it earned the miscreant an immediate detention. The incantations and runes she taught them were very complicated, and she burdened them with even more homework than Snape. It was just barely manageable, if you started on your homework right away; if you left it till the last minute, you'd never get it done. Harry and Ron were forced to become organized in order to keep up, much to their disgruntlement and Hermione's pleasure.

Too much homework and an unfair Snape were nothing new, but on top of that came the news that the Death Eaters had broken out of prison. Most of the students were tense and nervous, except for Draco's crowd, of course, who were insufferably smug, and were openly gloating about it. Well, almost openly. Draco didn't actually say he was glad that his father was free, but he made a great show of reading the Daily Prophet at breakfast every morning, making sure that the prominent headlines about the Death Eaters' escape were visible to everyone in the room. 

Draco was a little cowed by the newly-stern Professor Lupin and more than a little cowed by Professor Blackmore, so he didn't taunt Harry in class, but he did silently mouth, "I told you so," in DADA class one day when Lupin's back was turned. Harry seethed furiously, but didn't dare respond with a hex or even a verbal insult, because Lupin would probably give him detention or take points from him, and he and Ron had already lost Gryffindor too many points as it was. He still felt a little hurt that Lupin was so quick to punish the Gryffindors and defend the Slytherins, and wondered if Lupin's romance with Snape could have affected his judgment. He and Ron commiserated privately, taking care to say nothing to Hermione, who always took Lupin's side and would just tell them that they were the ones behaving unfairly.

Shortly after Halloween, Harry went to Snape's office for his Occlumency lesson as usual. Instead of his normal hostility, Snape eyed him with a very odd, brooding look on his face. He said nothing, but just stared at Harry for a long time, until Harry finally said, "Sir?"

Snape blinked, cleared his throat, and said gruffly, "Well, then, let's see if you've been practicing, Potter."

Between homework and Quidditch practice, Harry had not had much time to practice his mental exercises, unless fighting not to lose his temper in Potions class counted. "Yes, sir," he said, trying to avoid Snape's eyes.

Snape raised his wand and said the words that Harry knew by heart: "One--two--three--Legilimens!"

Maybe keeping control of his temper in Potions class had helped, after all; his mental walls held up against Snape's initial attack. Snape eased up, and Harry made the mistake of relaxing for a moment; Snape immediately attacked with a sharp, sudden strike. Harry rushed to reinforce his defenses as memories slipped out, like water through a crack in a dam: a gloating Draco reading the Daily Prophet...the battle with the Death Eaters in the Ministry of Magic...an angry Lupin taking points from Harry and Ron for insulting Draco's father...Hob's cupboard under the stairs in Sirius's house, which melted into an image of the cupboard Harry had been forced to live in at the Dursleys'... Harry flushed with anger and humiliation at the thought of Snape seeing that memory, and finally managed to repair the gap in his "wall" and stop the flow of memories. 

Fighting to keep the anger from overwhelming him, Harry stopped trying to merely defend and began actively pushing back Snape's attack, and then suddenly it was Snape's defenses that broke, and images flowed into Harry's mind: an eleven or twelve year old Snape, staring at the posted class rankings, with his name listed as number 2, right below James Potter's...James Potter, the center of attention as a crowd of admiring students, including Lupin, gathered around him, while Snape stood alone and apart from the crowd, watching...young James--no, it was Harry himself, sitting in the Great Hall the day he had first arrived at Hogwarts, because an adult Snape was watching him from his vantage point at the staff table, with first shock and then loathing...Harry again, older this time, sitting in Potions class as Snape looked down and saw the words "I must not tell lies" etched into the back of Harry's hand...

The memories abruptly ceased as Snape broke off the spell. Harry looked up at his teacher with trepidation as Snape stared down at him, managing to look angry, troubled, and confused all at the same time. This time Harry was afraid to break the silence, and they stared at each other until Snape finally said, "Enough for tonight." Then he grudgingly added, "You seem to be making progress, Potter. But don't let your guard slip like that again; it's a foolish beginner's mistake. Always keep your defenses up, particularly when you're facing an enemy."

Some impulse overrode Harry's common sense, and he spoke without thinking. "Are you my enemy, sir?"

Snape just stared at Harry for a moment, looking more troubled than ever, then said sharply, "Don't be impertinent, Potter! For the purpose of this lesson, obviously I am."

"And outside of this lesson, sir?" Harry asked quietly. He was still confused by Snape's dual nature, and viewing himself through Snape's eyes had been extremely disturbing. From that image of himself as a first-year, Snape did indeed have trouble distinguishing Harry from his father in his mind.

"Obviously we have to work together to serve the Order, like it or not," Snape said through gritted teeth, with a flash of resentment in his black eyes. "Otherwise I would not be giving up my free time to tutor you. I assure you that I have other things I would much rather be doing. Now get out of here, Potter, and you had better have your Potions homework ready to turn in tomorrow, because you won't get any slack from me, extra lessons or not!"

"Slack" was the very last thing that Harry would expect from Snape. "Yes, sir," he said, and left the room, feeling a bit smug because he had already finished his Potions homework before dinner. He wondered why Snape had looked so troubled, and why, despite that last remark, Snape had been less hostile than usual; he had even given Harry a grudging compliment on his progress. Harry rubbed the back of his hand, feeling a phantom pain as he remembered how Umbridge's detention lines had cut into his hand last year; he had not realized that Snape had known about that. 

_He probably gloated about it,_ Harry thought bitterly, but as he recalled the memory, he wasn't sure that was really true. The memories were brief and hazy, and flashed by so quickly that it was difficult to be sure, but he thought that he had detected a sense of horror and outrage on Snape's part. Maybe he was just imagining it. Yes, it was probably all his imagination. But suddenly he recalled Lupin telling him that Snape cared about his students even if he didn't show it, and he remembered how Dobby had stolen a jar of healing salve for him from Snape's office. 

For the first time, Harry wondered how Dobby had known that Snape kept the healing salve in his office; it would have been far more logical to look for it in the hospital wing. Maybe...no, surely Snape couldn't have given it to the house-elf! No, that was absolutely ridiculous! The house-elves cleaned the entire school, including Snape's office, and Dobby had probably seen the salve during the course of his duties; he'd had no trouble finding the gillyweed for Harry, after all. But then that thought began nagging at him too, because Dobby had only gone after the gillyweed after the fake Moody had put the thought into his head. Harry had been heading back to his dorm, but he turned around and headed for the kitchen instead.

The house-elves greeted him happily, clustering around him and offering him trays of sweets. "No, thank you, I was just here looking for Dobby, have you seen him? No, thanks--well, maybe just one." 

Harry accepted a berry tart and took a bite out of it just as a voice exclaimed happily, "Harry Potter!"

"Hi Dobby," Harry said. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Dobby shooed off the other house-elves, and they retreated to a corner of the kitchen to talk. "Listen, Dobby, do you remember the time you got the jar of healing salve for me from Snape's office?"

"Did Harry Potter get in trouble for that?" Dobby asked anxiously, preparing to start pounding his head against the wall.

"No, no!" Harry replied hastily. "Not at all! I was just wondering, um, how did you know Snape kept it in his office?"

Dobby paused to think. "Professor Snape said so."

"He told you it was there?!" 

"No, Dobby was delivering mail to Professor Snape's office, and Professor Snape was holding the jar, and he said--" Dobby did a bad imitation of Snape's sinister cackle. "--'I'll bet Harry Potter could really use this healing salve for his hand! Too bad I'll never give it to him!'"

"And you snuck back into Snape's office after he left?" Harry asked. Something about Dobby's story struck him as odd; did Snape make a habit of talking to himself? Had he been gloating in front of Dobby because he knew that Dobby was a friend of Harry's?

"No," Dobby replied. "Professor Snape told Dobby to clean his office, and then Professor Snape left. So Dobby cleaned the office and took the jar." Dobby stared at the shocked expression on Harry's face and asked in a worried voice, "Did Dobby do something bad?"

"No, you did fine, Dobby," Harry said, but his head was spinning. "Um...do you normally clean Snape's office?"

"No," Dobby said. "Dobby likes to clean Gryffindor Tower because Harry Potter lives there!" He beamed happily at Harry.

"And don't the house-elves usually clean the school at night, after everyone is asleep?" Harry continued. Dobby nodded. "Was Snape's office especially dirty? Did he maybe spill something?"

Dobby thought about it, then said, "No, it didn't need much cleaning. Professor Snape keeps his office very neat."

The house-elf was looking worried again, so Harry forced a smile on his face and said, "Okay, Dobby, thanks. That's all I wanted to know." 

"Dobby is always happy to help Harry Potter, sir," the house-elf said happily.

Harry left the kitchen and slowly headed back to Gryffindor Tower. He was in no rush, because he wanted to be alone while he thought things over. Snape was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them; he would never proclaim out loud that he had something that could help Harry and then leave Dobby alone in his office with it--unless he wanted Dobby to take it. It sounded crazy, but there was no other explanation. If he had known about it at the time, he would have suspected Snape of setting up a trap for him, but more than a year had passed with no punishment from Snape--at least, not for that particular offense. 

Could it be that Snape had been trying to help him? But why go to the trouble of staging that little charade for Dobby? He could have just given it to Harry, or told Madam Pomfrey to do so if he was afraid of ruining his Death Eater image. Harry sighed and shook his head, wondering if he would ever understand Snape. He wished he could talk about it with someone, but Ron would probably be just as bewildered as Harry, and ever since she had learned of his romance with Lupin, Hermione had become firmly entrenched in Snape's corner, and he didn't really want to hear once again about how she had known all along that Snape was "all right".

*** 

Branwen's words about Potter and his father were still vivid in Snape's mind when the boy arrived for his Occlumency lesson. He knew that she was right about him treating the boy unfairly, but it was one thing to accept it intellectually while conversing with Branwen in her office, and quite another to try and do something about it when Harry was standing right in front of him looking so much like James. His feelings towards the boy were hopelessly entangled with his feelings towards the boy's father, and separating the two was proving extremely difficult, like trying to untangle a snarled knot of string.

Potter was actually making good progress in his lessons, but he was still too careless; he let a false lull in Snape's attack trick him into letting his guard down, and Snape was quick to strike and show the boy his mistake. The images of Draco and Lupin were not too disturbing, but the image of Potter living in a cupboard barely large enough to house a hob was...unsettling. It was a pointed reminder that Harry was not James, who had never suffered a moment's hardship as a child, who'd had everything handed to him on a silver platter--at least, it had seemed that way to an envious young Snape. He didn't want to feel sorry for Harry; he wanted to hate him...except, as Branwen had reminded him, that it was really James he hated.

Maybe it was his preoccupation with the past that distracted him and allowed Potter to get through his defenses, because suddenly Snape was the one on the defensive, and not surprisingly, the memories that escaped were all of James and Harry. When he saw himself looking down at the sentence carved into Harry's hand, he quickly broke off the spell. Having the boy in his head was bad enough, but he most certainly did not want Potter to find out that Snape had arranged for Dobby to "steal" the jar of healing salve. He thought he would die of embarrassment if the boy found out Snape had taken pity on him; the humiliation of the Pensieve incident had been bad enough.

And Snape was badly shaken by the memory of his first sight of Potter on the first day of school. He had known that James Potter's son was entering Hogwarts, of course, and had not been pleased about it, but he had not expected the boy to look so much like his father; it had been like seeing a ghost. Perhaps he could have tolerated the boy's presence better if he had resembled Lily instead, but having to see a near-duplicate of James in class every day awoke long-repressed emotions and opened old wounds. He could not look at Harry without being reminded of James, which could not help but remind him of Lupin, which in turn brought back all the old feelings of love and betrayal and hatred. 

Snape had blamed James for taking Lupin away from him, both because of the "prank" and just for being the golden boy whose friendship Lupin had chosen over Snape's. The very sight of the boy filled Snape with an irrational surge of hatred, and though he knew he was being unfair, Snape didn't try very hard to fight it. Hate was so much easier to deal with than loneliness and guilt...and even after he and Lupin resumed their romance, Snape had not been able to let go of his resentment towards Harry, because he was jealous of Lupin's affection for the boy. It was ridiculous to be jealous of a child, but Snape had feared being second in Lupin's heart to a Potter once again...in truth, he hated sharing Lupin with anyone, but especially with someone who bore the face and name of his old childhood enemy...

Snape stared down at the boy, who stared back at him with James's face and Lily's eyes. Funny, how he had never noticed that before--that the boy had his mother's eyes, although Lupin and several of the other Order members had remarked upon it. Did he have Lily's compassion as well as James's arrogance? Lupin and Branwen seemed to think so. Anger warred with confusion and guilt; Potter was disobedient, insolent, and always up to mischief, but so were the Weasley boys, as Branwen had pointed out, and so was Draco Malfoy, Snape had to reluctantly admit to himself. 

He was not entirely sure how many of Potter's flaws were real and how many had become magnified in his eyes because of his hatred for James. How much of Potter's attitude was really insolence and arrogance, and how much merely the mischievousness and self-centeredness of any normal child? Of course, "normal" was a relative term...how many children had lived in cupboard for eleven years? For that matter, how many parents punished their children with a Cruciatus curse?

Finally he noticed that Potter was looking at him curiously, and shook himself out of his reverie. "Enough for tonight," Snape said. "You seem to be making progress, Potter," he reluctantly acknowledged. But he could not resist chiding, "But don't let your guard slip like that again; it's a foolish beginner's mistake. Always keep your defenses up, particularly when you're facing an enemy."

"Are you my enemy, sir?" Potter asked.

Snape should've been angry, but he felt more shaken. For a moment, he wasn't sure if it was Potter or his own conscience talking. Snape's head knew that Potter was not the enemy, but he was having trouble convincing his heart of that. "Don't be impertinent, Potter!" Snape snapped. "For the purpose of this lesson, obviously I am."

"And outside of this lesson, sir?" Potter asked quietly. 

"Obviously we have to work together to serve the Order, like it or not," Snape snarled through gritted teeth, easily falling back into the old, familiar role of the embittered Potions Master in order to hide his inner turmoil. "Otherwise I would not be giving up my free time to tutor you. I assure you that I have other things I would much rather be doing. Now get out of here, Potter, and you had better have your Potions homework ready to turn in tomorrow, because you won't get any slack from me, extra lessons or not!"

The boy left without further argument, and Snape returned to his quarters. It was a great relief and comfort to find Lupin already there, looking up from some papers he was grading to give Snape a welcoming smile.

"Hello, Severus," Lupin said cheerfully. "I hope you don't mind that I let myself in. How did Harry's lesson go?"

"Of course I don't mind, and all right, I suppose," Snape replied. He tried to keep his voice nonchalant, but Lupin was always good at picking up on his moods.

Lupin looked at Snape more closely and said in a concerned voice, "Are you all right, Severus? Did Harry stir up some disturbing memories?"

"Sort of," Snape sighed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lupin asked gently.

Snape looked into his lover's eyes, seeing no censure, only love and concern, but he was reminded once again of Branwen's words, of how it hurt Lupin to see Snape at odds with Black and Potter. There were a great many things he wanted to say to Lupin, chief among them, "I'm sorry": sorry for rejecting Lupin after the Shrieking Shack incident, sorry for all the hurtful things he had said back then, sorry for exposing Lupin's lycanthropy, sorry for causing Lupin pain by constantly arguing with his best friend and his deceased best friend's son. And also, "Thank you": "Thank you for still loving me after all the horrible things I've done to you." But all that would take a long time to say, and right now he wanted more than anything to feel Lupin's arms around him, so he settled for saying, "I love you, Remus."

That seemed to be enough. "I love you too, Severus," Lupin said, smiling at him warmly. He rose from his seat and held his arms open, and Snape stepped forward into his lover's embrace.

They made love that night, slowly and tenderly, without the usual hunger and urgency fueled by the wolf's instincts or Snape's insecurities. It was more comforting than passionate, but no less pleasurable for that. He basked in Lupin's presence afterwards, filled with a warm glow of contentment, his troubling thoughts temporarily banished. "I love you, Remus," he said again as he reached out to brush Lupin's hair back from his face, then let his fingers slowly trail across Lupin's cheek and down his neck, coming to rest on his chest, over his heart. He stared at Lupin with a sense of awe, marveling at how beautiful his lover was, and what a miracle it was that some as beautiful and kind and brave and...well, wonderful...as Lupin actually loved him.

"I love you too, Severus," Lupin said softly. "I love the way you look at me, like I'm the most precious thing in the world to you."

"You are," Snape whispered, and gently kissed Lupin on the lips.

"As you are to me," Lupin whispered back, smiling at him joyfully, although there were tears glistening in his eyes.

Tears of happiness, not sorrow, but Snape was reminded of the things he had wanted to say to Lupin earlier. "I'm sorry, Remus," he said quietly.

"For what?" Lupin asked in confusion.

"For everything," Snape replied. "For not trusting you, for not loving you enough back in fifth year--"

"Shh," Lupin said, laying a finger across Snape's lips. "It's all right. You don't have to apologize anymore."

Snape kissed Lupin's finger, but continued, "And for getting you fired--"

"I didn't get fired; I resigned," Lupin said lightly.

"And..." Snape hesitated. "I'm sorry for always fighting with Black and Potter."

"Well, it's not entirely your fault, at least with Sirius," Lupin said with a rueful smile. "I know he starts at least half of those quarrels."

"But it hurts you, to see the people you love at odds with each other."

"I told you, Severus, you don't have to forgive Sirius for my sake--"

"But it would make you happy if I did," Snape persisted, staring directly into Lupin's blue eyes. 

Lupin looked torn, as if he didn't know whether to answer "yes" or "no". "Well, yes," he admitted, almost reluctantly. "But it's not something you can force. You have to let it happen naturally, Severus."

"I don't know if I can let go of the hate," Snape said in a low voice.

"Severus--"

"But I'll try," he continued. "For your sake."

Lupin looked both happy and worried at the same time. "Did Branwen give you a lecture the other day when she spoke to you in private? I know she means well, but you don't have to let her bully you into--"

Snape had to laugh a little in spite of himself. Now that Snape had decided to make peace with Black and Potter--or at least attempt to--and after all the trouble Branwen had gone through to make him reach that decision, it seemed that Lupin was going to stubbornly resist their efforts. _Perverse little werewolf,_ he thought affectionately. "Don't you want me to make peace with Black, Lupin? How many times have you thrown up your arms in frustration when we fought?"

"Of course I do!" Lupin said. "But...I know how hard it is for you. I'm afraid it will make things worse, I suppose, if you try to make yourself feel something you can't."

"I'm not saying I want to become best friends with him, Lupin," Snape said in a testy voice, and Lupin giggled. "I don't know if I can ever bring myself to actually like him, but I'll try to stop hating him for your sake. I'll try to get along with him." He thought sourly to himself that Black probably wouldn't make it easy for him. "Branwen says I should at least give him a chance to prove that he's really changed."

"Thank you, Severus," Lupin said with a smile as clasped one of Snape's hands between his own. "I know how difficult this is for you."

Lupin's smile made the unpleasant task ahead of him seem slightly more palatable. "It is difficult," he said, "but I want you to be happy." He flushed guiltily. "I've treated you so badly, and yet you've always forgiven me--"

"I'm not keeping score, Severus," Lupin said, gently but firmly. "And neither should you."

"And it's not as if you ask for much," Snape finished. 

"Just a few public displays of affection," Lupin grinned.

"Exhibitionist," Snape teased.

"You like it," Lupin retorted. 

Snape grinned, then said in a more serious voice, "I love you, Remus. When the war is over, I will gladly tell the world that you are my lover."

Lupin stared at him in shock for a moment, then smiled, blinking back tears. "I'll hold you to that, Severus."

"I'm sure you will," Snape said in a dry voice, recalling Lupin's threat to kiss him at the head table in the Great Hall, and Lupin laughed. He moved closer and snuggled contentedly against Snape's chest and they held each other in silence for a moment.

"Sev?"

"Hmm?"

"Was it just Branwen's lecture, or did something happen during Harry's lesson to bring all this on?"

"Both," Snape said. "Mostly the lecture." He sighed. "When I look at him, I can't help but see James. The first time I saw him, the day he entered Hogwarts, it was like seeing a ghost."

"I know," Lupin said softly. "It brought back painful memories."

"I was so jealous of him," Snape said helplessly. "It seemed like he had everything I didn't: real friends, loving parents...you."

"You have me now, Severus," Lupin said gently. "I have loved you since fifth year, and I have never stopped loving you."

"I know," Snape said holding him tightly. "I know that now, even if I was too stupid to realize it back then. And I know I shouldn't hate the boy so much...Black at least gave me reason to hate him, but the boy hasn't really done anything except be born the son of someone I hate." He paused, and a little of the old resentment stirred. "And break every school rule and get away with it. And give me that same insolent look his father--"

"Severus!" Lupin scolded.

"Sorry," Snape said, flushing. "Old habits are hard to break."

Lupin smiled at him forgivingly, which made him feel even more ashamed of himself. "It will take time," Lupin said gently. "Your feelings won't change overnight. But you've made a start; that's the main thing. I'm very proud of you, love." He kissed Snape on the cheek.

"Maybe what I hated most was that you love him and loved his father," Snape admitted reluctantly. "I was jealous. I still am, a little. Well, more than a little."

"Oh, Severus," Lupin started to say sadly.

"But it doesn't seem so bad," Snape continued, "when I'm lying here with you like this."

Lupin's sad expression melted back into a smile. "Then we must do this more often," he declared.

"It might be a little difficult to do this more often than we do," Snape said with dry humor. "Considering that you spend just about every night in my quarters."

"We could always have a quickie between classes," Lupin suggested with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Didn't you have some fantasy involving, ah, how did you put it--throwing me across my desk in my office and having your way with me?"

"LUPIN!" Snape bellowed indignantly. He tried very hard to scowl ferociously at his lover, but when Lupin laughed, he couldn't help but laugh with him. "You are incorrigible, werewolf!" he said fondly.

"And you're not as tough as you like to pretend, Professor Snape," Lupin said, kissing the tip of his nose. "You're very diligent about protecting Harry, someone you claim to hate. And I know you like Hermione."

"I do not LIKE that annoying, know-it-all little Gryffindor wench!" Snape huffed, his face turning bright red.

"Uh-huh," Lupin said, with an amused, you-don't-fool-me look on his face. "I seem to recall you having a rather cozy little chat about Potions with her in the drawing room over the summer..."

"She kept pestering me about some potion she'd read about--in that book you bought her for Christmas and put my name on when I specifically told you not to, I might add! So it's all your fault! I finally had to explain it to her to make her leave me alone!"

"Uh-huh," Lupin repeated, in a voice that said he didn't buy that for one second.

"It's true!" Snape insisted. "Of course, I couldn't finish my explanation because a certain oversexed werewolf happened to pounce on me in the middle of it--"

"Grrr," Lupin growled playfully. "And that was your fault, Severus, for looking so handsome." He pushed Snape's hair back so he could gently press his lips against the nape of Snape's neck; Snape shivered with pleasure. "I don't know why exactly, but seeing the nape of your neck exposed really turns me on." He grinned at Snape. "Like you seem to have a thing for my throat."

Lupin tilted his head back, and Snape obligingly kissed and nipped at the hollow of his throat. "Would you like me to cut my hair, then?" Snape asked.

"No!" Lupin said instantly, sounding appalled. "I love running my hands through your hair!" And he did just that, to prove his point, letting his finger's slide through Snape's thick, black, collar-length hair. He kissed Snape lightly and said, "Besides I don't want you sharing that lovely neck of yours with the entire world!"

"That's a privilege reserved only for you, I suppose?" Snape laughed.

"Exactly," Lupin said, with a very possessive and self-satisfied smile. "Besides, if you walk around all day with your neck exposed, how am I supposed to control the wolf? I thought you didn't want me jumping on you at the head table..."

"No, I will keep my hair as it is," Snape said hastily, and Lupin chuckled.

"Good," Lupin said, nuzzling his hair. "And speaking of the wolf, it is feeling quite hungry right now, and it is your duty to keep it pacified."

"Never let it be said that I don't do my duty by Hogwarts and the Order," Snape said, feigning a martyred air as he pulled Lupin into his arms.

*** 

Snape was still in a good mood the next day, although of course he tried to conceal it from his students. He was sitting in his office between classes, when suddenly he heard Lupin call out to him through the fireplace, "Severus! I need to see you right away!"

The urgent tone in Lupin's voice alarmed him, and he pulled out his wand before grabbing a handful of floo powder and stepping into the fireplace. Hogwarts was well-warded, but in these times, it was better to be safe than sorry.

He emerged to find Lupin standing alone in his office with a mischievous expression on his face. "All right, what's going on, Lupin?" Snape asked suspiciously, feeling annoyed and relieved at the same time.

Lupin did not reply, but took out his own wand and began casting spells, setting a silence spell on the room and placing wards around the door, fireplace, and windows. Then Lupin began undoing the fastenings on the long, blue robe he was wearing--one Snape had given him for Christmas--starting at the throat and slowly working his way down. The robe fell open, revealing that he was wearing nothing beneath it.

Snape's jaw dropped, and his wand fell out of his hand to the floor with a clatter, but he didn't even notice. "Lupin!" he said; it was meant to be a cry of outrage, but came out as more of a squeak. He stared at his lover in shock for a moment; he had once had a dream remarkably similar to this scenario, but he had never told Lupin about it. Could he have guessed somehow? Then a rather disturbing thought occurred to him. "Please tell me that you didn't teach your classes like that all morning!"

Lupin just grinned at him wickedly. "Mm, but doesn't that thought turn you on just a little, Severus? The thought of me being naked beneath my robes all day...?" He laughed at the look of mingled lust and horror on his lover's face, and taking pity on him, pointed at a neatly-folded stack of clothing on the chair beside his desk. "Of course I didn't, silly! I came to my office after class and got undressed. Just for you, my sly Slytherin. You were saying last night that we should do this more often. And I did propose a quickie between classes..."

"I thought you were joking!" Snape said.

"I was," Lupin admitted, "but then the idea started to become very appealing."

"This is reckless behavior, Lupin," Snape said sternly, but his authority was somewhat diminished by the fact that he was licking his lips. "If anyone should walk in on us--"

"Thus, the wards, Severus," Lupin said calmly. "No one can enter through the door or even the fireplace until I remove them; there is a silence spell on the room so that no one passing by can hear us, and I have even warded and cast a spell of obscurement on the windows, although a person would have to be flying by on a broom in order to spy on us through them. It's perfectly safe, Severus."

"We'll be late for class," Snape protested.

"I don't think they'll start without you, Severus," Lupin said impishly. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and let the robe fall to the floor in a puddle at his feet.

That did the trick; Snape's halfhearted objections immediately ceased, and he crossed the room in three long strides, took Lupin in his arms, and kissed him hungrily.

*** 

Snape's sixth-year Advanced Potions students were sitting in their classroom, gossiping amongst themselves, wondering what was keeping their teacher, who usually arrived on time like clockwork. About ten minutes after class should have started, the door slammed open and Snape stalked in, looking rather flushed. "What are you doing?!" he snarled, and his students all jumped. "Do you think you can slack off just because I'm late? Class started ten minutes ago; if I'm not here you should be reading your textbooks or continuing to work on your potions, not sitting around gossiping!"

There were mumbles of "Yes, sir," and "Sorry, sir." Ron muttered under his breath, "If class started ten minutes ago, then where were you?"

"I heard that, Mr. Weasley! Ten points from Gryffindor for your insolence! And not that's it's any of your business, but I was late because I was having a conference with Professor Lupin!" He slammed his books down on his desk, causing the students to jump again, and he glowered at them, looking extremely vexed and just dying for a chance to punish the next student who stepped out of line. The Slytherins gulped and turned pale, trying frantically to think of something they might have done that would have caused Lupin to call a conference with Snape.

_Oh Merlin, I hope it wasn't me!_ Theodore prayed fervently. _Did he report Draco's Serpensortia stunt to Snape? No, he gave Draco detention for that, so Snape already knew about it. Maybe Lupin noticed Blaise was acting oddly on Halloween...?_

Meanwhile, Draco was thinking to himself, _No wonder he's so ticked off; he hates having to spend time around the werewolf. Merlin, I hope Lupin wasn't complaining to him about me! But I haven't done anything since I cast the Serpensortia spell on Nott..._

Blaise just slid down a little lower in his seat, doing his best to become invisible; most of the other students followed his example. 

"Stop slouching and sit up straight!" Snape shouted, and the children all sat bolt upright. "Your potions have been steeping since yesterday; take them out and get back to work on them!"

The students rushed to obey, working in a very industrious manner all period. Thus, they were all too busy to see Snape turn away as, for just a moment, a small but very amused smile crossed his lips.

*** 

Sirius returned to England, loaded with souvenirs he had bought and gifts the Kamiyamas had pressed upon him, mainly an ungodly amount of Japanese sweets, including a freshly made batch of mochi, sticky-sweet rice cakes. "Be sure to give some to Snape-sensei," they said cheerfully. Miyako also gave Sirius one of the wooden fox statuettes she carved for the temple, and gave him some comic books and video game cartridges for Lupin.

He stopped by the school to present Kamiyama's proposal to Dumbledore, who summoned Snape and Lupin to the office so they could hear it as well. "Intriguing," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. "Very well, I will talk to the Ministry and the school governors."

"Do you really think they'll let Karasu teach the children physical combat?" Sirius asked dubiously. 

"I'll take care of it," Dumbledore said, sounding unconcerned. "Perhaps if we present it as a cultural exchange, more as a sport or recreational activity..."

Lupin grinned. "Slyness is not solely a Slytherin trait, it seems." Snape just snorted and rolled his eyes.

"And he's talking about stirring up the non-humans," Sirius complained. "Is that wise?"

"Better that they be stirred up by one of our allies than by Voldemort," Dumbledore pointed out.

"I suppose so," Sirius conceded.

"You've done very well, Sirius. I'd like you to be the liaison to our guests when they arrive."

"Well, Remus laid all the groundwork; I'm just the messenger boy," Sirius said modestly, but felt quite pleased with the Headmaster's praise. "But sure, I'd be happy to." 

Snape looked as if he wanted to say something sarcastic, but seemed to be trying very hard to restrain himself. When he spoke, all he said was, "I'm worried about this child Miyako has Seen."

"Divination is rarely very specific, unfortunately," Dumbledore sighed.

"At least with her dream of the roses," Snape continued, "we knew it had something to do with Dylan. How are we supposed to find this child? Camp out in the maternity ward of St. Mungo's and examine every newborn girl?"

"It will probably become clear when the time is right," Lupin said. "That seems to be how these things work."

"The way these things work," Snape grumbled, "is that it usually doesn't become clear until it's too late."

"I'll inform the other Order members of Miyako's message," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps something will occur to one of them."  Sirius doubted it, but there was little else they could do. He handed out the souvenirs he'd brought with him, tabi socks--socks with a split in them for the big toe, to be worn with sandals--for Dumbledore. "You always said one can never have too many socks," Sirius said, and Dumbledore chuckled, appearing to be quite tickled by his gift. He then handed Lupin the gifts from Miyako, and Sirius's own gift, a bottle of sake. "And I should give you back the books and things you loaned me--"

"Keep them," Lupin said. "You should probably keep studying them if you're to be the liaison to the Japanese emissaries."

"Thanks, Moony. And um, these are for you, Snape," Sirius said awkwardly, handing Snape the packages of sweets. Lupin grinned and Snape raised his eyebrows, and Sirius hastily added, "They're from the Kamiyamas."

"Ah, I see," Snape said, accepting the packages. Lupin cleared his throat loudly. "Well, er, thank you," he muttered in a rather grudging tone. 

Lupin cleared his throat again, looking at Sirius this time. "Uh, yeah, no problem," Sirius muttered rather grudgingly himself. "Um, is Branwen around? I brought back something for her, too, and for Harry."

"No, I believe she had some errands to run in Hogsmeade," Dumbledore replied. "But I'll send for Harry so you can see him."

"Oh," Sirius said, feeling a little disappointed. "Thanks. Here, Moony, maybe you can give this to Branwen for me? Just a little souvenir from my trip." It was a folding paper fan, painted with a design of a pair of cranes in flight. Ironically, the cranes looked a lot like Chizuru, although Sirius had bought it in the village before he met her, simply because it was pretty and reminded him of the painting at the Sakura which served as a Portkey.

"Of course," Lupin said, taking the fan. "I'm sure she'll be sorry she missed you." He and Snape left, and a little while later Harry arrived. 

"Sirius!" he exclaimed happily, and ran forward to give his godfather a hug.

"It's good to see you, Harry," Sirius said, feeling much better. He hugged Harry back and said, "I had to stop by to see the Headmaster so I thought I'd say hello. Here, this is for you; a souvenir from a trip I just took to Japan." He handed Harry the omamori charm.

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry said, staring at the little brocade bag curiously. "What is it?"

"A good luck charm," Sirius replied with a grin, "called an omamori. This one is for success in exams."

"Well, I can sure use it!" Harry laughed, a little ruefully.

"Snape's not giving you a hard time in class, is he?" Sirius asked suspiciously.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said in a warning tone.

"No, actually I'm doing okay," Harry said quickly. "It's tough keeping up in class, but I'm doing a lot better in Potions than I did last year. Honestly. And he says I'm making progress with my Occlumency lessons." Harry hesitated, then added, "I'm not sure, but I think he tried to help me last year, when Umbridge gave me detention."

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked.

Harry explained about the lines he wrote for Umbridge that cut into his hand, and Sirius scowled furiously at Dumbledore. Before Sirius could start giving the Headmaster a piece of his mind, Harry hastily continued with his story about Dobby, and how Snape had apparently left the jar of healing salve out for the house-elf to "steal".

"I just don't get it," Harry said in confusion. "I thought he hated me. Why would he want to help me?"

"He doesn't hate you, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "I told you that before. It's your father he hates. Unfortunately, you remind him of James."

"Okay, I get that," Harry said, looking uncomfortable. "And I get that he protects me because he feels like he owes my dad for saving his life, and because of the Order. But the lines weren't exactly life-threatening, and he's given me plenty of detention himself--"

"Unpleasant detention tasks, I'm sure," Dumbledore said, still in that gentle voice. "But nothing like Professor Umbridge's punishment."

"Well, no," Harry admitted.

Harry looked at Sirius with troubled eyes, obviously asking for guidance. Sirius wanted to say something wise and godfatherly, but he was just as clueless as Harry. "I don't know, Harry," Sirius said slowly, keenly aware of Dumbledore's eyes gazing intently at him, although the old wizard was smiling in his usual good-natured fashion. "Maybe he helped you because of the debt he owes James." Then he reluctantly added, "I suppose if Remus were here, he would say that Snape cares about all his students, even if he doesn't show it." Harry still looked dubious, and Sirius couldn't blame him, because he shared those same misgivings; despite Lupin's words, it seemed to Sirius that Snape's concern was focused mostly on his Slytherin students.

"There is more to Professor Snape than meets the eye, Harry," Dumbledore said, kindly but firmly. "You know that."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, although he didn't look completely convinced. Then he turned back to Sirius and said, looking more cheerful, "You'll come to our Quidditch match this month, won't you, Sirius?"

"Of course!" Sirius said, smiling. "I wouldn't miss it for the world! I can't wait to see Gryffindor wipe the floor with Slytherin!"

"Ahem," Dumbledore said, clearing his throat and giving Sirius a stern look.

"Ah, all in good fun," Sirius hastily added, "and in a sportsmanlike manner, of course."

"Of course," Harry said, grinning. 

"I should get going," Sirius said regretfully. "But I'll definitely be here for the game, Harry."  "I'll see you then," Harry said, turning to leave. Then he paused and asked, "By the way, what were you doing in Japan?"

Dumbledore and Sirius exchanged a look. "Sirius was running an errand for me," the Headmaster said. "It will become public soon enough, but for now I must request that you keep that information private."

"You were on a secret mission?" Harry asked, sounding excited and impressed.

"Just carrying some messages," Sirius said modestly, but smiled proudly.

"Can't you tell me what it was?" Harry asked eagerly. "You know I'll keep quiet about it!"

Dumbledore smiled. "I can't go into the details, but Sirius was meeting with some allies of the Order. As I said, you'll hear about it soon enough."

Harry looked a little disappointed, but he didn't argue. "It was good to see you, Sirius," he said, giving his godfather a quick hug before he left.

"You too, Harry," Sirius said, and he left as well.

*** 

Sirius returned home, and was welcomed back by Tonks and Hob. He had brought gifts for them, too: a violet-colored kimono with a white flower design for Tonks ("To match your hair," he said with a grin) and some sweets for Hob. It was nice to have someone to come home to; Sirius found that he no longer minded living at the Black family house so much now that Tonks and Hob were living with him. Hob's little cosmetic touches, like the new curtains and wallpaper, had helped, but it was mostly their mere presence that brightened the formerly gloomy atmosphere.

He retired to his room to rest before dinner, and when he came down to the dining room, was surprised to find Tonks dressed in her new kimono, placing a vase filled with fresh flowers in the center of the table.

"My, don't you look nice," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "Did you get all dressed up just for me, or are we having company?" There were three place settings on the table, but the shy little hob usually preferred to eat alone in the kitchen or his cupboard now that Sirius was no longer living by himself.

"We're having company," she said in a slightly too-casual tone, and Sirius frowned suspiciously. Just then, he heard the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut. "Ah, there's our company now!"

Sirius was not kept in suspense for long; a minute later, Branwen walked into the dining room, with Bane perched on her shoulder as usual. "Thank you for inviting us, Tonks," she said, handing the young Auror a cardboard pastry box. "I stopped by Hogsmeade to pick up some dessert."

"You didn't have to do that, Branwen," Tonks protested, then laughed. "But Hob will be happy."

"Branwen?" Sirius asked, feeling a little stunned. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at Hogwarts?"

"Well, it's nice to see you, too, dear," Branwen replied mildly. "Tonks invited me--" Bane cawed loudly. "--and Bane, of course, over for dinner."

"But what about your classes?" Sirius demanded.

"We don't teach at night, Sirius," Branwen said gently, as if speaking to a very simple-minded child. "Except for Severus, who has to give Harry and Dylan private Occlumency lessons. Besides, it's Saturday."

"Don't be so rude, Sirius," Tonks chided. "Branwen will think you're not happy to see her."

Sirius shot her a quick glare and silently vowed, _I'll get you for this!_

Hob, who was probably in on Tonks's little scheme, had prepared a delicious meal and brought up a bottle of the finest vintage the Black wine cellar had to offer. Sirius sighed and resigned himself to an evening of matchmaking. He took a sip of wine, comforting himself with the fact that his mother would be rolling over in her grave if she knew that he was sharing her best wine with his half-blood cousin and a part-demon woman who, though from a distinguished line of wizards with Dark leanings, had thrown in her lot with "that bleeding heart Dumbledore" (as Mrs. Black used to refer to the Headmaster). Branwen clearly had no clue what Tonks was up to, so Sirius relaxed a little, and simply enjoyed her company as they conversed about Hogwarts and Sirius's trip to Japan; he tried to ignore Tonks's look of smug satisfaction.

As they lingered over dessert (chocolate marble cheesecake), Branwen said to Tonks, "You look quite fetching, dear. That robe suits you."

"Thanks," Tonks said with a grin. "Sirius got it for me in Japan."  "That reminds me," Branwen said, "thank you for the fan, Sirius; it's lovely."

"It's nothing," Sirius mumbled, as Tonks asked, "What did he get you? Can I see it?"

"Tonks!" Sirius said indignantly.

"Of course you can see it," Branwen said, giving him a puzzled look. She reached into a pocket on her robe and pulled out the fan, spreading it open so that Tonks could see the crane design.

"Ooh, that is nice!" Tonks said.

Bane cawed in a disgruntled tone. Branwen laughed, "Bane thinks you should have gotten a fan with ravens on it instead!"

"Sorry, Bane," Sirius said sardonically, "but they didn't have any. Maybe that tengu crow-man, Karasu, would know where to find one."

"The cranes are lovely, dear," Branwen said, smiling. "Remus says that they're a symbol of good luck in Japan."

"Really?" Sirius said. "I didn't know that; I just thought it looked pretty." 

"Yes, apparently they're a symbol of longevity, peace, and fidelity."

"Fidelity?" Tonks asked, her eyes lighting up.

"Yes, because the Japanese cranes mate for life. Rather like wolves, I suppose."

Sirius, unfortunately, had just taken a bite of cheesecake, and choked on his food when he heard Branwen's words. She patted him on the back as he coughed and choked, saying in a concerned voice, "Are you all right, Sirius? My goodness, you have to be more careful when you eat, dear."

"I'm okay," Sirius gasped, finally managing to get the lump of cheesecake down his throat. He drained his glass of wine in one gulp, and glared at Tonks. 

She smiled back at him innocently and asked, "That's quite fascinating, don't you think, Sirius? About the cranes, I mean?"

"Fascinating," he said sourly.

"It wouldn't hurt you to take a little interest in Japanese culture," Branwen said in what Sirius privately thought of as her "teacher's voice". "Since Albus has asked you to be the liaison to the representatives from Japan."

"Remus has already loaned me some books," Sirius said, a little sullenly.

"Good," Branwen said. "Make sure you study them." Sirius grunted an affirmative, and Branwen turned to Tonks. "How are you holding up, Tonks?"

"Okay," she said. "Though I can understand why Sirius was going a little stir-crazy last year." She gave her cousin a sympathetic look, but Sirius was not in the mood to forgive her just yet for her meddling. "It's incredibly frustrating just sitting here doing nothing."

"I know," Branwen sighed. "I don't think they really believe you're guilty, but since they have no other suspects, they're loathe to let you go for fear of looking incompetent."

Sirius snorted derisively. "I think you can find Cornelius Fudge's picture in the dictionary under the definition of 'incompetent'!"

"I thought about offering to swear under Truth Serum that I had nothing to do with the break-in, but the Headmaster told me that wasn't a good idea," Tonks said.

"No, it's not!" Branwen said, looking alarmed. "It would be all right if we could make sure that the Ministry confined themselves to asking solely about the break-in, but we can't take the chance that they might intentionally or unintentionally get you to spill information about the Order. It's possible that Voldemort might have other plants besides Gwydion, and there are always those like Umbridge who are not Death Eaters, but who have become his unwitting pawns."

"I know," Tonks said glumly. "I wouldn't want to endanger anyone, especially Severus and Dylan."

"We'll have to do it the hard way, but we will clear your name eventually," Branwen promised, patting her shoulder comfortingly. Tonks thanked her, and she left soon after that, saying it was late and she should get back to school. She lifted her familiar from the table, where he was sitting in a near-stupor after consuming a huge slice of cheesecake. "I think Severus is right," she told him disapprovingly. "You're getting fat." The raven was too contentedly full and sleepy to respond with his usual indignant croak. Branwen bid Tonks and Sirius goodnight, kissing Sirius on the cheek in a motherly fashion before she left.

As soon as Branwen was gone, Sirius said to his cousin, "You're dead meat, Tonks!"

"What?" she asked, feigning bewilderment. "All I did was invite a friend over for dinner. I thought you'd be glad of a little company; I know I am."

"Do not meddle in my love life, Tonks!" Sirius said sternly. "I mean it!"

"But Sirius--"

Sirius decided to turn the tables on her. "What about you?" he demanded. "You're single, too, aren't you? Shouldn't you be devoting your energies to finding someone for yourself first?"

"I don't have time for that--" Tonks began to protest.

"You've got nothing but time on your hands," Sirius pointed out, and grinned at the look of consternation on her face. "It's fine with me if you want to invite a guy over, though of course you'll have to run him by Dumbledore first, since this is the Order headquarters." Tonks blushed a little. "Do you have a certain guy in mind?"

"I don't have a boyfriend!" she said, still blushing. 

"But there's someone you like?" Sirius hazarded a guess as his cousin's face turned pink, which clashed rather badly with her violet hair and kimono. "Who is it?" he cajoled. "Come on, you can tell me, your favorite cousin!"

"Gee, look at the time," Tonks said hastily. "I didn't realize it was so late! I'm heading up to bed; 'night, Sirius!"

"Goodnight, little cousin," he called out cheerfully. He took the dishes to the sink, and left a plate of cheesecake beside the fire for Hob. He was pleased that he'd managed to divert her attention away from him and Branwen for the moment, but frowned a little as he wondered who her crush was; not just any guy would do for his favorite cousin. He resolved to keep his eyes and ears open; sooner or later she would let down her guard and let a hint slip out.

*** 

Tensions between the Slytherins and the other students escalated as the Death Eaters continued to elude capture; Neville Longbottom was not the only student who had lost family members in the first war. Although the children were too young to really remember their murdered relatives, their parents had impressed on them their fear and hatred of the Death Eaters. Quarrels broke out, and a few hexes were thrown on both sides, which were quickly punished by the teachers.

But the hostilities did not cease; they only grew more subtle. Someone put a hex on Serafina's bottle of ink, causing it to explode and splatter ink all over the Slytherin girl and her books in Ancient Runes class; Serafina didn't seem perturbed about the ink that got on her face and robes, but she was quite upset about her ruined books. The culprit was never identified, but a Hufflepuff boy in her class (whose Muggle-born uncle had been killed during the war) went to the hospital wing the next day to get treated for a bad case of warts. 

And someone tripped Theodore between classes, nearly causing him to tumble down a flight of stairs. Goyle, whose brawn for once came in useful, managed to catch him and save him from possible serious injury. It was the usual mad rush between classes, and no one noticed (or at least, no one would admit to noticing) who had tripped Theodore, but a crowd of Gryffindors had been passing by when it happened. "Serves you right, weasel!" a seventh-year Gryffindor boy sneered, and several of the other students laughed. Apparently word of Theodore's Patronus had spread outside of Lupin's sixth-year class.

Snape was particularly furious about the last incident, and he and the other teachers took to patrolling the halls between classes; Snape made a point of lurking near his Slytherins in a particularly obvious and sinister manner, but he didn't have time to shepherd all his students to their classes, and the other teachers couldn't be everywhere at once, either. The prefects of each House were ordered to be on the alert, but Snape wasn't convinced that all the prefects were entirely innocent. He knew that Miss Granger would turn in one of her own housemates if she caught them up to mischief, but he suspected many of the others would turn a blind eye if that mischief were being carried out against a Slytherin. 

Branwen began sending Bane out to patrol the halls, and the raven made a very effective hall monitor: he could screech loud enough to wake the dead, and nearly gave the culprit a heart attack when he caught a student about to fling a handful of dungbombs into a crowd of Slytherins. (Snape took great pleasure in sentencing the student, a fourth-year Gryffindor boy, to a week's detention as well as taking twenty points from Gryffindor.) The incidents began to taper off, but the atmosphere remained tense.

All this trouble did, however, give Snape a good excuse to write to the parents of his students and suggest that the children would be safer remaining at school during the holidays where he could keep an eye on them. Of course, this meant that he would have to remain behind as well, but since Lupin was now teaching at Hogwarts, they could still be together, and hopefully it would give Snape an excuse to avoid having to spend another Christmas at Black's house.

Not long after that, Snape received a summons; to his surprise, Dylan apparently had not been summoned along with him, because he spent several anxious minutes in his quarters waiting with Lupin, and the boy did not appear. Feeling relieved that at least he would not have to put Dylan in danger this time, he left the school grounds and Disapparated.

He found himself in the usual place, but this time it was a small gathering, not the full conclave of Death Eaters. It was intimate and casual enough that his comrades had thrown back their hoods, so Snape did likewise. The Averys, Notts, and Malfoys were there, along with Crabbe and Goyle senior, as well as the ever-present Wormtail.

Voldemort smiled at him pleasantly, which immediately filled Snape with trepidation. "Your comrades tell me that you are concerned about the well-being of their children, Severus."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said respectfully. "There is growing hostility, both among the students and the public at large."

Lucius Malfoy held up the letter Snape had sent to Narcissa. "And you think it would be best if the children remain at Hogwarts during the holidays?"

"Yes, and it might be wise to curtail their Hogsmeade trips as well," Snape replied. "Just to be on the safe side."

"I'll so miss my Draco if he can't come home for Christmas," Narcissa said mournfully. "But if you really think he'd be in danger, Severus--"

"Do you think I can't protect my own son in my own house, Severus?" Lucius asked coolly.

"With all due respect, Lucius," Snape replied, "it is not safe for you to return to your house while the Aurors are looking for you. And if you are not there, you cannot protect him. Of course, the Malfoy manor is well-warded, but there have been incidents...or so I have heard."

Narcissa bit her lip; she had been snubbed and taunted on the rare occasions when she ventured out in public. Suspected sympathizers of the Death Eaters had been harassed and even roughed up; only a few such incidents so far, but they were likely to grow. Vandals had thrown eggs and dungbombs at the residences of suspected and known Death Eaters, and written graffiti ("Murderer," "Death Eater," etc.) on some of the apartments and houses, though of course the estates of the more powerful families like the Malfoys had protection spells strong enough to prevent intruders from venturing onto the grounds. 

"Draco wrote that someone tried to push Nott's son down the stairs at Hogwarts," Lucius said pointedly. "Are you sure that Hogwarts is such a safe place?"

"We have cracked down on these so-called pranksters and the number of incidents has drastically decreased," Snape said calmly. "Besides, they're still safer at the school where I can keep an eye on them and things are not likely to progress beyond a few childish hexes. It's only a matter of time before a vigilante murders someone or the Aurors are given free reign to kill again."

"There's no need to mollycoddle my boy, Snape," Thaddeus Nott said coldly, giving the Potions Master a hard, suspicious stare. "He's almost a man; he's old enough to take care of himself, or would be if people would stop being so soft with him." He sneered at his wife, Marta, who looked unhappy, but said nothing and kept her eyes downcast. She was a dark-haired woman who might have been pretty, if not for the lines of strain and worry on her face and a cowed, defeated look in her eyes.

"I assure you, Thaddeus," Snape said dryly, "that no one has ever accused me of being soft on my students." Lucius Malfoy chuckled a little at that.

Nott shot him a quick, sullen glare, but apparently did not want to openly antagonize Malfoy. He turned back to Snape and said, "If you keep the boys at school, they can't carry messages if we need them to."

Snape shrugged, affecting an air of indifference. "Well, you are their parents; the decision is yours. But you did charge me with the task of looking after their safety and best interests, so I am only trying to do as you asked."

"Yes, you have been most diligent in your efforts to look after your students, especially the Rosier boy," Voldemort said smoothly, but there was a dangerous glint to his red eyes. "Surely you are not getting sentimental on us, are you, Severus?"

"Sentiment is for the weak," Snape said coolly, echoing his father's favorite words, for once grateful that they had been drilled into his head as a child so often that it had become almost an automatic response. "I am merely doing my duty, looking after the offspring of my comrades, and more importantly, guarding your possessions, my Lord. For they belong to you, do they not? They are destined to enter your service, so of course I most diligently look after their safety and see to their education, that they might grow up to be proper servants to you."

Narcissa looked a bit offended and disturbed at her son being called a "possession," but her eyes flickered towards the Dark Lord, and she remained silent. Voldemort just laughed, and seemed pacified--for the moment. "Indeed, Severus," he said. "And how are our future Death Eaters shaping up?"

"They show great promise, my Lord," Snape said. "Young Draco, of course, is a talented Potions student, and already adept at the Dark Arts." He nodded in Lucius's direction, and a cold but pleased smile crossed Malfoy's lips. "And Serafina seems to have quite a talent for hexes." Andreas Avery scowled furiously, and his wife Delia, a pale woman with limp, stringy hair somewhere between blonde and brown, cringed. "Theodore seems most promising as well." He couldn't really think of anything positive to say about Crabbe and Goyle, but fortunately, no one, not even their fathers, seemed to expect him to. A thought occurred to him, a potentially dangerous plan, but one that would give him a good excuse to keep the children at Hogwarts and away from their parents. "Of course, if they remain behind during the holidays, they need not be idle," he said in a silky voice. "I could give them private lessons, and..." He paused, as if to consider his words. "...ah, teach them things to prepare them for the duties that await them."

"I have tutored Draco extensively at home, Severus," Lucius said, a slight edge to his voice.

"Of course I am sure that there is not much more I can teach Draco that you have not," Snape said in a mollifying tone, and Lucius looked placated. "But perhaps some of the others could benefit from a little tutoring."

Voldemort had a thoughtful look on his face. "Yes," he said, "perhaps that is wise. Soon they will take their places among us, and they must be ready. See to it, Severus." Voldemort grinned at him, not a very pleasant sight with his white, almost skeletal face and glowing crimson eyes. "You always were one of my most talented disciples, and also very good at teaching your fellow Death Eaters, as I recall." He laughed, "Perhaps you have found your calling as a teacher, after all!"

The Death Eaters laughed along with him nervously, and Snape bowed low and said, "I live to serve you, Master."

Voldemort looked at him closely for a moment, and Snape wondered if he had laid it on a little too thick, although the Dark Lord usually enjoyed, and even expected, extravagant obeisance and flattery. "Yes, you do, Severus--all of you," Voldemort said in a much more quiet and serious voice. "Live to serve me, that is. Never forget that."

"Never, Master!" the Death Eaters all said fervently, kneeling before him.

"Very well, Severus," Voldemort said. "See to the children's education. And you are working on that new batch of Mind Restoration Potion for the Donners?"

"Yes, my Lord, as you ordered."

"Then you are dismissed."

Thaddeus was not pleased, but the Dark Lord had spoken, and there was no contradicting his will. He scowled at Snape and Disapparated. Marta gave him a quick, entreating look, then vanished as well. He was not quite sure what she was asking; to keep Theodore safe, probably--but from whom? The irate public, or the Death Eaters themselves? Crabbe, Goyle, and the Averys left without a word, but Narcissa said, "Please look after Draco, Severus."

"Of course, Narcissa. I always do."

"Come along, dear," Lucius said, a little impatiently. "Severus will watch over Draco as he always has." Narcissa nodded obediently, but flashed Snape a grateful look before Disapparating with her husband, and Snape Disapparated and returned home to Hogwarts.

*** 

Not long after that, Dumbledore called another Order meeting. Sirius reported on his mission to Japan, and Dumbledore informed them that he was arranging an audience with the Ministry for the Japanese emissaries, as well as more private meetings with select groups of non-humans.

"What if they stir up a rebellion amongst the non-humans?" Dedalus Diggle asked nervously.

"What do you do think Voldemort is doing?" Branwen pointed out impatiently. "If they don't join us, they will likely join his side."

"Yes, but it might be counterproductive if this Karasu gets the non-humans so riled up that the Ministry views them as a threat," Arthur Weasley said thoughtfully.

"I will speak with the emissaries and impress upon them the need for...ah, diplomacy and caution," Dumbledore said. "It is a good idea Professor Kamiyama had, to send non-human wizards and show the Ministry that they can be just as capable and respected as their human counterparts."

"Actually, Satoshi claims that most of the Japanese wizards derive their powers from non-human ancestors," Sirius said. "Naoto himself is a kitsune, of course, and he seems to be a prominent member of their wizards' council. It makes one wonder, whether some us might have had...unusual...ancestors as well." He caught Branwen's eye, and she smiled; her many-times great-grandfather and co-founder of her clan had been a demon.

"I wouldn't be surprised," she said.

Several of the other Order members looked outraged at that, and Shacklebolt said, "I don't think that theory would go over well with the Ministry, and you had best keep it to yourself, Black. There's nothing to be gained in openly antagonizing Fudge and his cronies."

"I'm not stupid, Kingsley," Sirius said, sounding a little offended.

"Could have fooled me," Snape muttered under his breath, then subsided and looked a bit guilty after Lupin kicked him under the table. Dumbledore pretended not to notice, and called on Snape to give his report.

Most of his fellow members were not pleased when they heard what he had to say. "Teaching the Dark Arts is prohibited at Hogwarts!" McGonagall said. "You know that, Severus!"

"Oh please," Snape said, rolling his eyes. "Do you really think that they haven't already been tutored in the Dark Arts by their parents at home?"

"That doesn't mean that you need to encourage them further!" McGonagall snapped.

"Are you sure you remember which side you're on, Snape?" Moody asked suspiciously. "Those 'children' are likely to end up using the spells you teach them against us someday!"

"I'm trying to prevent them from becoming Death Eaters," Snape said coldly.

"Funny way you have of going about it," retorted Moody.

"Potter learned how to cast a Cruciatus Curse from you," Snape shot back. "Oh, excuse me, that was your double."

"Enough!" Dumbledore said, as Moody began turning red with anger. "Save your energy for fighting the enemy, not each other! Now Severus, I understand that you want to protect your students, but I also have some serious reservations about you teaching them Dark Magic."

"Moody has a point," Shacklebolt said in an even voice. "What if your students end up using those spells against us, or against their fellow students, someday?"

"Believe it or not," Snape said angrily, "I'm not exactly thrilled about the idea myself. I know better than anyone the risks involved. But the Dark Lord and my fellow Death Eaters were becoming suspicious of my concern for my students, and this was the only excuse I could think of to allay those suspicions and keep the children away from their parents."

"I trust Severus," Lupin said quietly, "and I think this is the lesser of two evils. Theodore Nott in particular could be in danger from his own family. And Severus says that Serafina Avery's father is abusive as well."

"There is more at stake here than the lives of two children," Moody said. McGonagall and some of the others looked outraged, but several more nodded in agreement.

"Would you be so quick to sacrifice those children if they weren't Slytherins?" Snape asked sharply.

To his surprise, Tonks spoke up in his defense. "It's not right to sacrifice a child, any child, to our cause. That would make us no better than the Death Eaters."

"This is a war," Moody said. "You have to be realistic. It may sound cold-hearted, but are you really willing to risk the outcome of the war for two children? No one's life, not yours, not mine, is worth that."

Snape opened his mouth to speak, but Branwen beat him to it. "I don't think that Severus teaching the Slytherins a few Dark spells is going to have a major impact on the outcome of the war, Alastor," she said sharply.

"You never know, Branwen," Moody replied. "What if those children join the Death Eaters and use those spells at a critical moment on the battlefield? What if they use them to attack Potter at school?"

"You're being a bit paranoid, Mad-Eye," Tonks said.

"Paranoia has kept me alive all these years," Moody retorted. "If you'd been a little more paranoid, maybe you wouldn't be wearing that collar around your neck!"

"Now, see here!" Shacklebolt said indignantly, and Sirius looked ready to leap to his cousin's defense as well.

Lupin interrupted before another argument could get started. "I think the possible benefits of Severus's plan outweigh the risks," he said firmly. "Severus will have to teach them some Dark Magic, but they would learn it eventually anyway, from either their parents or Voldemort. And they will be kept at school, away from their parents' influence, and Severus will be able to spend a great deal of time with them, alone and unsupervised. It will give him a chance to steer them away from the Death Eaters and prevent them from making the same mistakes their parents did. Serafina and Theodore would be grateful, I think, to be spared the fate of their parents." 

Moody and some of the other Order members looked dubious, but Lupin ignored them and continued, "And we were even starting to make some progress with Draco Malfoy, but unfortunately, the Death Eaters' escape and his father's visit in Hogsmeade undid most of our efforts." Lupin sighed. "But still, he has the capacity to change and become a better person than his father, and I think we can get through to him if we try hard enough."

"Lucius Malfoy's child is a lost cause," Moody said contemptuously.

"No child is a lost cause, Alastor!" Branwen snapped, glaring at him.

Moody was one of the few people who could bear her steely gaze without flinching. "You're too sentimental, Branwen," he said. "It nearly got you killed during the first war."

"Funny," Snape said in a cool voice. "The Dark Lord accused me of being too sentimental towards the children as well. Perhaps you and he have more in common than you know."

Moody looked furious, but Dumbledore spoke before he could respond. "Very well, Severus," he said reluctantly. "I'll trust your judgment, but keep me apprised of what you are teaching them and how they are progressing."

"I'll try to stall and hold them back as long as I can," Snape said, "but I will eventually have to teach them something useful, or their parents will become suspicious again."

"Look," said Sirius, "I'm not saying we should sacrifice these kids, but Harry has had to sacrifice a lot, too, being brought up by those nasty relatives of his and being put in danger all the time..."

"I would spare Harry if I could, Sirius," Dumbledore said sadly.

"There is a difference between Potter and my Slytherins," Snape said coolly, but without the scorn his voice usually held when he spoke to Sirius; in fact, Sirius almost thought he detected a hint of sympathy, but it was so faint that he wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not. "The Dark Lord views the Death Eater offspring merely as his possessions; they might become useful to him in the future, but they hold only a passing interest for him at present. Potter, on the other hand, he is most definitely interested in. He was unable to get hold of the prophecy sphere, but he knows enough; he knows that Potter is the only one who has the power to defeat him, so Potter is involved whether we consent to it or not. The Dark Lord does not suffer from any pangs of 'sentiment,' I assure you, and he won't show Potter any mercy because he's a child."

"Maybe Moody's right," Shacklebolt said thoughtfully. "What if You-Know-Who tries to use the Slytherin children to harm Harry?"   
Unfortunately, Snape had to admit to himself that it wasn't as remote a possibility as he would like to think. He exchanged looks with the other Hogwarts teachers. "I'll keep a close eye on my Slytherins," he said, "and we should all keep a close eye on Mr. Potter." He turned to Dumbledore and said, "Perhaps you can impress on him the importance of being careful and not wandering off alone." He added in his more normal, waspish voice, "And especially of not sneaking around the campus after-hours?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I'll warn Harry to be careful."

"It would help if we could divert the Dark Lord's suspicions to someone else for a change," Snape said. "I recall that Tonks suggested we try and make it seem as if Gwydion was betraying the Death Eaters. Nothing came of it, because the Dark Lord didn't alert me to the prison break, but it's still a good idea. The Dark Lord was already annoyed that his 'source at the Ministry' didn't let him know that the Aurors were keeping watch on the Rosier estate, so it wouldn't take much more to arouse his suspicions."

Shacklebolt smiled grimly as he stared at the collar on Tonks's neck. "Yes, I agree it's time that we unsettled Gwydion a bit; I think we can arrange that. We can start subtly, by having myself and other Aurors who openly support Dumbledore be seen being quite chummy with our friend Gwydion. Word will probably leak back to You-Know-Who eventually."  "If not, I can make sure that it happens," Snape said with an evil smile.

Shacklebolt grinned back at him conspiratorially. He didn't much like Snape, but for once, they were in complete agreement. "And then perhaps the Aurors can begin showing interest in the Rosier and Donner estates, perhaps hint that we know Karkaroff's dead. I don't suppose you know what he did with the body afterwards?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Pity," said Shacklebolt. "Would've been nice if we could have found it thanks to an 'anonymous tip'..."

"Be careful," warned Dumbledore sternly. "We don't want to jeopardize Severus's safety."

"We'll be careful, Albus," Shacklebolt promised. "We'll move slowly."

The meeting broke up soon after that. Goewin, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the meeting, paused to speak to Snape. "Do you want Dylan to remain at Hogwarts for Christmas, Severus? We all miss him, but if you think it's necessary..."

"It's true there is some danger, but he should be safe enough if he doesn't leave the house. I only wanted to keep the children at school to protect them from their parents, not the public at large. As far as the Death Eaters know, Ariane wouldn't be aware of the Dark Lord's dictate for the children to be 'tutored,' so I can't stop her from taking Dylan home if she insists. It would probably be better if he remained here, but..." Some impulse made Snape reconsider; war could break out at anytime, and there was no guarantee that any of them would survive it. Who knew when Dylan might have another chance to spend time with his family? "Let him go home; I'll deal with the consequences, if there are any."

Lupin suggested, "Perhaps a compromise? Let him spend Christmas at home with his family, but return to school early?"

"I'll talk it over with Math and Ariane," Goewin said. "And Severus--I don't want you tutoring Dylan in the Dark Arts. He's been exposed to enough of that already."

"I doubt I really need to," Snape replied. "Ariane seems to have given him quite an education already. Not many students, even among the Slytherins, know what a Death Strike or a Blood Healing spell is." Goewin looked quite cross at that reminder, and Snape added, "Don't be so hard on Ariane. She made mistakes, but she was not the only one to be fooled by the Dark Lord's promises. At least she finally realized the danger and put Dylan's safety ahead of her own need for power and revenge. She has more sense than Narcissa, who doesn't seem to be aware of the danger her son is in, and more courage than Delia and Marta, who probably are aware, but are afraid to do anything about it, even to save their own children."

Goewin sighed. "I am more angry at myself than Ariane, for not seeing through her act--and Dylan's--before. I should have realized that Ariane would never have so tamely accepted her exile unless she had some plan in mind. And Dylan--he was such a sweet, charming boy from the day he was born. I loved him so much that I never stopped to think that he was too patient, too well-behaved, too good-natured, especially considering the verbal abuse he was subjected to by Deirdre and her sons. A normal child would have lost his temper, shown more open resentment. I was proud that he showed more maturity than his uncles did, but I should have realized that it wasn't natural."

"It wasn't all an act," Lupin said gently. "He loves you and Mathias, and some of the values you tried to teach him stuck with him, despite the secret education Ariane gave him--I know that he didn't learn his tolerance for the Muggle-born from her. During his first year at Hogwarts, he made friends with a Muggle-born girl named Hermione, one of Harry's friends. I think that might have given him second thoughts about his desire to join the Death Eaters."

Goewin smiled. "Ah, that friendship is real, then? I was pleased about it at the time, but after I found out the truth, I thought perhaps it was another act designed to lull our suspicions."

"It's quite real," Snape said, then muttered under his breath, "unfortunately."

"You and Mathias taught him love and compassion," Lupin continued. "Even Ariane, as misguided as her choices were, made them for love, unlike most of the other Death Eaters. Without the three of you, the hatred of his uncles and grandmother might have warped him beyond redemption. Voldemort made a serious mistake when he forced Dylan to join the Death Eaters by threatening his mother, because Dylan made that decision for love, not power or glory or self-interest. He is Marked by the Dark Lord, but his soul is still his own."

Goewin smiled sadly, blinking back tears. "Please watch over him, you two," she whispered.

"We will," Lupin promised, and Snape nodded. Goewin left, and most of the other Order members were already gone. Only Lupin, Snape, Dumbledore, Sirius, Tonks, and Branwen remained in the room. 

"I don't like it that the Dark Lord told me that the children will take their places among the Death Eaters 'soon,'" Snape said grimly. "Of course, 'soon' is a relative term for someone who waited for over a decade to regain his body. It could mean next month, it could mean next year." He turned to Lupin. "But it might be wise for you to step up the pace of your Defense class, especially for the fifth and sixth-years."

Lupin nodded solemnly. "I'll do my best, Severus."

"We all will," Dumbledore said gravely.

"I'm proud of you, Severus," Branwen said quietly, taking his hand for a moment. "You've tried so hard to reach your students." She smiled at him, a slightly twisted smile, but it was more sad than bitter. "And you seem to have had more success than I did, twenty years ago."

"That's because they've seen the true face of the Dark Lord," Snape replied just as quietly. "Dylan firsthand, and Serafina and Theodore through their fathers. They don't harbor the same illusions we did back then. And...I couldn't have done it without your example, Branwen."

"I'm not sure that's true, dear," Branwen said, with a more sincere smile this time. "But I'm glad my lectures were not wasted on you."

Sirius felt an odd little twinge of resentment as she kissed Snape on the cheek. He was not jealous, he firmly told himself, only annoyed by her usual pro-Slytherin bias. Yes, that was all it was...

Sirius flushed a little as Branwen gave him a motherly peck on the cheek before departing, and Tonks grinned. "You should stop by for dinner again sometime, Branwen," she called out cheerfully. "On the weekend, perhaps, when you're not busy with classes." Sirius scowled at her ferociously, but but it was too late.

"Thank you, dear," Branwen replied. "I will." She smiled sympathetically, mistaking the intent behind Tonks's invitation, and added, "You must be quite bored and lonely, being cooped up in the house all the time with no company but Sirius and Hob. Perhaps we can make a gathering of it, coax Molly into cooking dinner for us, invite Arthur and the boys as well, of course, and Remus and Severus--"

"Severus is much too busy with school to attend dinner parties," Snape said hastily. "I have to work on the Mind Restoration Potion, not to mention Potter's and Rosier's Occlumency lessons--"

"You can spare a couple of hours for dinner, Severus," Lupin said firmly, linking his arm through Snape's. "Just let us know when, Tonks."

"But Lupin," Snape whined plaintively as his lover dragged him out of the room. Dumbledore and Branwen chuckled to themselves as they departed, and Sirius snickered as Tonks looked quite put out at having her matchmaking attempt subverted.

*** 

Gilbert Donner sat morosely in his bedroom, staring at the book lying open on his lap, but he had read the same page at least ten times without the slightest recollection of what it said. He sighed and gave up, closing the book and putting it aside. While his brother was at work, Gilbert had little to do but read or spend time with his mother. There was only so much reading he could do in one day, and lately he had been limiting the time he spent around his mother, because keeping up the dull-witted act in front of her was becoming a strain. Now that he had his wits back, he could have gotten a job himself, but there was no safe explanation he could give for his miraculous recovery. Despairingly, he wondered why they had sacrificed so much to regain his intelligence, when they had to keep it a secret from everyone.

But at the time, he had been desperate to retain his sanity, after that first sip of the potion in the Leaky Cauldron, when he had been able to think clearly for the first time in years. Back then, after that first taste of sanity, he would have done anything, up to and including selling his soul, not to sink back into the half-aware stupor he had endured for over a decade. And now Gilbert was terribly afraid that he really had sold his soul...he had been afraid to take up Lucius Malfoy's bargain and become a Death Eater, but he had not put up much of a protest when Gwydion insisted on it. Gwydion was always so sly and clever, surely he would be able to find a way to get them out of it. But Gwydion had outsmarted himself, as he had once before, over twenty years ago...

If only he had never touched Goewin, all this never would have happened, and they would not be in such a mess right now. But Gilbert, having recently graduated from Hogwarts and not yet having found gainful employment, had been at loose ends on his uncle's estate. His mother did not want him to remain idle, so he took over some of the day-to-day responsibilities of running the estate to free up his uncle's time for his work in the Order of the Phoenix. And thus, he had come into contact with Math's young apprentice, Goewin.

Goewin had a rare gift, a type of Sight not seen in generations, but several Donner women had possessed that same gift in the distant past, so she was sent to study under Math, a scholar and historian who had made a study of such things, who had extensive knowledge of the gifts of his ancestors, and who retained most of the Donner histories, diaries, and spellbooks in the library on his estate.

Gilbert had been immediately smitten with the serious, dark-haired girl. Gwydion said dismissively that she was too bookish and priggish for his taste. But Gilbert thought she was more shy than priggish, and he liked the way she always thought before she spoke. When he asked her even a simple question, she seemed to pause and weigh it over in her mind, as if what he was saying was of the utmost importance, and that was something new for Gilbert. 

He dearly loved his twin, but at times felt overshadowed by him: Gwydion was handsome, dashing, and clever. He was a talented mage, and everyone said he was destined for great things, while Gilbert's powers were mediocre in comparison. Gwydion was quick-witted and smooth with the women, who seemed to fling themselves at him in droves; Gilbert found himself tongue-tied around the girls that he liked, who never seemed to notice him when Gwydion was around, anyway. 

But Goewin was always kind to him, and always seemed to be interested in what he had to say, and best of all, she never looked at him with disappointment as his mother often did, as if he would never live up to his brother's example. In fact, Goewin didn't seem to much like Gwydion, and preferred Gilbert's company to that of his brother's. "He's a little full of himself," she had once said apologetically. Gilbert had loyally denied it, but felt a bit of guilty pleasure at her words.

They were the only two young people on the estate, so it was only natural for them to strike up a friendship and spend time together when they weren't busy with their respective duties. They would talk or just read quietly together in the library, or go for walks in the garden. And soon, at least on Gilbert's part, friendship developed into something more. He tried to fight his feelings, because he knew that her gift as an Oracle required her to remain chaste, but the more he fought them, and the more he avoided her, the stronger those feelings became. 

One day they were walking through the garden together, and although she was speaking to him, he had no idea what she was saying, because he was so captivated by the way the sunlight was falling across her face, and by how soft and full her lips looked. Before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

For a moment, she kissed him back, then pulled away and said in horror, "Gilbert! We can't do this!"

"I love you, Goewin," he said, pulling her close and kissing her again. "I'm sorry, I've tried to fight it, but I can't! I love you, I want you, I need you--"

"Let me go!" she cried. When he didn't, she kicked him hard in the shin, and he yelped in pain and released her. "Gilbert, are you out of your mind?!" she shouted. Her expression softened slightly at the hurt look on his face, and she said more kindly, "You know we can't do this. We cannot be more than friends, because my gift requires me to remain chaste. I cannot throw that away for a moment's pleasure."

"I'm not talking about a moment's pleasure!" Gilbert said indignantly. "Do you think me such a cad? I'd never dishonor you that way; marry me and be my wife!"

Goewin's look of sympathy turned into one of anger. "Didn't you hear what I said? Marriage or one-night stand, it makes no difference! If I lose my virginity, I will lose my Sight!"

"I don't care about that!" Gilbert cried.

"Well, I do!" Goewin retorted. "How can you be so selfish, Gilbert? Why do you think Math has spent so much time and effort on training me? My Sight could make a difference in the war! I might be able to save lives, maybe even find a way to defeat Voldemort! And you would throw that all away, sacrifice all those lives just to satisfy your own personal desires? Grow up, Gilbert, and do your duty as a wizard!" He just stood there, stricken, and she added in a kinder voice, "I won't tell Math about this, and we will never speak of this again, understand?" He nodded dumbly, and she turned and walked back to the house. In the days that followed, she was still polite and friendly to him, but they no longer went for walks in the garden, and she took care never to be alone with him, always contriving some excuse to have Math or one of the servants around whenever he came by to see her.

The next time Gwydion came to visit, a despondent Gilbert had poured out his heart to his brother. "That bitch!" Gwydion said viciously. "She couldn't even turn you down kindly!" And Gilbert had let Gwydion's rage fuel his own anger, turning sorrow into bitter resentment. He had confessed his love to her, after all, and offered her honorable marriage into one of the most respected and powerful pureblood families in Britain, one that ranked considerably above her own. Who was she to turn him down?! And even if she was so duty-bound, she could have turned down his proposal more nicely; she didn't have to call him selfish! 

And somehow, he had let himself be talked into taking part in Gwydion's plan to "make Goewin yours, whether she wills it or not. I'll see to it that your desires are satisfied, and then if you still want to marry her--though I don't know why you'd want such a harpy for a wife--she'll have no choice. She will never find another husband; no man of rank will marry a despoiled maiden."

Some small part of Gilbert's conscience knew that what he was doing was wrong, but he followed his brother's lead as he had all his life. Gwydion sent his uncle an anonymous tip about a planned Death Eater attack, and Math immediately set off to gather some of his fellow Order members and deal with it. By the time he figured out the tip was false, it would be too late. Gwydion chased away the servants, both human and house-elf, and broke into Goewin's room. Startled, she reached for her wand, but not fast enough. He disarmed her with with an Expelliarmus spell, then immobilized her with an Impediment Curse. Then he grinned and said, "Have fun, brother," and left the room, closing the door behind him. He stood guard outside the room, and none of the servants dared challenge such a powerful mage.

But Gilbert had found little satisfaction in the act. Goewin managed to partially shake off the curse--not enough to free herself, but just enough to enable her to scream and struggle and make the whole experience thoroughly unpleasant for Gilbert. He finished quickly, and felt sick and ashamed afterwards, as he looked down at Goewin's tear-streaked face, her eyes full of shame and anger and betrayal. "I loved you," he said helplessly. "I would have married you." She spat in his face.

As she struggled to sit up and pull the torn remains of her robes around her, Gwydion walked in and said coldly, "If you are wise, you will keep your mouth shut, girl. You are useless to my uncle without your Sight, and no man of rank will marry you if they know you are damaged goods."

"Don't you think Math will notice that I can no longer See?" Goewin retorted, her eyes filled with hatred.

"Surely you can make up a few visions; fortune-tellers do it all the time," Gwydion said carelessly.

"Don't you care about the men and women who might die in the war if I feed the Order false information?" Goewin shouted.

"They can win the war without your visions," Gwydion sneered. "Divination is an all but useless gift, anyway, vague prophecies and mumbo-jumbo that never become clear until after the fact. You should be more concerned about your own fate, Goewin--an Oracle without Sight is useless as a mage, and you are useless to your family if you cannot make a good marriage."

Gwydion left the estate, taking Gilbert with him. "Just in case she's stupid enough to open her mouth, we had better make ourselves scarce till Uncle Math cools down. Now might be a good time to take a trip to Europe."

Despite Gwydion's threats, Goewin told Math about the rape, and he invoked a Geas spell to bring them back to Wales. It was almost impossible for a mage to invoke Geas without actually touching the subject of the spell, but Math was a powerful mage, and there were ties of blood between himself and his nephews, and he could have searched their rooms for personal belongings or strands of their hair to magnify the connection between them. Whatever he did, it worked. The two men stood unwillingly before their uncle, Gilbert shamefaced and Gwydion defiant. Goewin was there as well, gazing at them coldly, and Deirdre, who looked angry and tearful at the same time.

"You should both be sent to Azkaban for your crimes," Math said, his normally kindly gray eyes grim and merciless. "But I cannot let Goewin's reputation be destroyed because of your wrongdoing. I will marry her, to restore her honor, and give to her all my lands and wealth in compensation for your crime." Deirdre looked furious at that, but made no protest, so this agreement must have been arranged in advance between them. Gilbert had little time to be outraged at the thought of his uncle marrying his former beloved, because Math took out his wand and said, "You behaved no better than brute animals, so animals you will be for three years: one year as deer, one year as pigs, and the final year as wolves. I pray you will have learned to value your humanity at the end of that time, for it seems to me you value it little at present." Then Math raised his wand and shouted out an incantation.

Gilbert and Gwydion were transfigured into deer--not just their bodies, but their minds as well. As Gilbert stood there, balancing awkwardly on four legs, feeling his human intelligence slowly draining away, he heard the sound of a hound barking, one of the hunting dogs that lived on the estate. The sound filled him with terror as his animal instincts took over, and he bounded away for the shelter of the forest, followed closely by Gwydion.

For three years, he lived as an animal, with the deer's constant need to be on alert, never relaxing, always ready to run at the first sign of danger. His boar form was less timid, but he was still driven by animal hunger, rooting on the ground for food, and by the boar's quick temper, rushing to attack and defend his territory against intruders. Some small part of him remained human enough to tolerate Gwydion's presence by his side, though. And as a wolf he knew the need to hunt, the hunger of an empty belly when his prey eluded him, and the fierce joy when he took a down a deer, snapping his jaws around its throat, and the sweet taste of blood in his mouth. Some small part of him, which remembered the year he had spent as a deer, recoiled in horror, but that didn't stop the wolf from tearing into the animal's corpse and gulping down the sweet, still-hot flesh. 

And there was another animal instinct...but Gilbert tried not to think about it. He might have rutted as an animal; he wasn't sure, but he thought he recalled a different kind of hunger being aroused in the boar as a wild sow crossed his path... Gilbert shuddered and shook his head, praying that there were no deer, pigs, or wolves running through the forest with Donner blood in their veins.

Gilbert's mind returned to the present. What good was his restored intelligence, he wondered bitterly, when it seemed that all it was good for was recalling memories that he would rather forget, and allowing him to brood over the Mark on his arm, a permanent reminder of one of the many foolish choices he had made over the years. The return of his sanity had brought him no happiness, only misery, and part of him longed to return to his former state of oblivion, which now seemed like more of a gift than a curse. 

He had briefly entertained thoughts of killing himself, but his brother would still be bound to the Death Eaters, and all Gwydion had sacrificed for him would be for naught. Besides, Gilbert suspected he was too much of a coward to actually carry out the act. A stronger man would have been able to resist the temptation of a beautiful girl, and a more honorable man would never have raped her. He was not sure now if he had really loved Goewin or if he had merely been infatuated. Either way, he had ruined both their lives, as well as Gwydion's, for nothing. Over the years, he had been filled with a sense of fear and hatred whenever he saw her, but now that he could think clearly once again, Gilbert realized that it was not Goewin, but himself, that he hated...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Blackmore's pet raven Bane falls victim to a rather undignified curse. Also, Draco comes up with a creative idea to help Slytherin win the Quidditch match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to Orphen Eritus who originally came up with the idea of a bunny hex.

Tensions between Slytherin and the other Houses, particularly Gryffindor, continued to run high. The Slytherins tended to consider the dungeon their domain, so when Brad Doherty reported one day that he'd seen a bunch of Gryffindors--including Harry Potter--heading down to one of the lower dungeon levels one evening, Draco rounded up a group to investigate. Crabbe and Goyle were at his side as usual, but Theodore had gone to the library with Blaise, so Draco ordered Dylan and Damien to come with him. After a moment's hesitation, he allowed an eager Brad to tag along as well.

They found Potter, Hermione, Ron and Ginny Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom in one of the workrooms adjacent to the Incantations and Summonings classroom.

"Just what do you think you're doing here, Potter?" sneered Draco.

"We have permission from Professor Blackmore to be here," snapped Potter. 

"We're practicing drawing protective circles," Hermione added in a more polite tone.

"So why don't you buzz off, Malfoy?" Ron Weasley said curtly as his sister and Hermione gave him disapproving looks.

"Why don't you make me, Weasley?" Draco said with a nasty smile, slipping his hand into his pocket to grasp his wand.

"Don't tempt me, Malfoy!" Weasley snarled, reaching for his own wand. Potter did likewise, as his Gryffindor friends watched nervously.

"Stop it, Ron!" Hermione said sharply. "Do you want to lose more points for Gryffindor? Do you want to get detention so close to your next Quidditch match?" She said to Draco in a slightly conciliatory tone, "Look, we don't want any trouble. All we want to do is practice for Professor Blackmore's class. Haven't both Slytherin and Gryffindor gotten into enough trouble fighting as it is?"

But her reasonable tone only served to make Draco angrier. "I don't take orders from a Mudblood!"

"You take that back!" Weasley snapped, raising his wand.

"Ron!" protested Hermione.

"You're a fine one to talk," Potter said, jumping into the fray. "You've got no right to be throwing insults around, when your dad's a common criminal!"

Draco's pale face turned red, and his gray eyes took on a dangerous gleam. "Don't you dare talk about my father that way, you...you...half-blood!"

"The high and mighty Lucius Malfoy, a fugitive on the run," Weasley taunted. "I can't wait till the Aurors catch him!"

"I'll make you eat those words, Weasley," Draco snarled, pointing his wand at Weasley. "They'll never catch him! He and the Death Eaters will kill all you lot of Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers!" He sneered at Potter. "Just like they killed your parents!" Potter's face turned red with anger.

Crabbe and Goyle grasped hold of their wands but did not draw them. They were not usually so reluctant to follow Draco's lead in fighting with the Gryffindors, but they showed rare good sense in being very scared of Professor Blackmore, and this room was dangerously close to her office. Brad watched the confrontation eagerly, and Damien anxiously, but neither boy seemed eager to draw their wands either. 

"Please stop, Draco," Dylan said nervously. "You're going to get in trouble; if Professor Blackmore catches us--"

"Since when did you turn into such a little priss, Rosier?" Draco sneered, giving him a contemptuous look, as if asking how a Death Eater could be so concerned about a little detention.

"Even Snape is afraid of Blackmore," Dylan retorted. "Doesn't that tell you something?!"

Meanwhile, Hermione was pleading with her friends, with just as little success. "Ron, you're a prefect! You have to set an example! Harry, just ignore him--who cares what he thinks? He's just trying to get you into trouble!"

The boys pointed their wands at each other, just as Dylan heard the sound of a raven cawing. "NO--STOP!!" he shouted, not sure whether he was talking to the three boys or to the raven, but either way, it was too late. Bane flew into the room, scolding them in his hoarse, croaking voice, and inadvertently flew straight into the line of fire and was simultaneously hit with three curses.

There was a loud squawk, and Bane's form was obscured by a sudden puff of smoke. Startled, the boys jerked their wands back. They heard a soft "thump!"--like the sound of a small body hitting the ground. The smoke cleared, revealing a large bunny rabbit, its fur as sleek and black as a raven's feathers. It was plump and cuddly-looking, except for its eyes, which were beady and black like Bane's, and glaring furiously at everyone in the room.

There was a long, horrified silence, which was finally broken by Goyle. Slow-witted though he was, it was obvious even to him that they were all in big trouble. "Uh-oh," he said in a small voice.

Just then, Professor Blackmore strode into the room, saying in her usual imperious voice, "All right, what's going on here?" The Slytherins hastily distanced themselves from their leader, retreating to the far corner of the room to cower in fear. Dylan, Damien, and Brad tried to hide themselves behind Crabbe's and Goyle's bulky forms, while at the same time, Draco's two henchmen tried to hide behind their younger classmates. Finally, the boys settled on huddling together side-by-side in the corner, like one quivering mass of flesh. The Gryffindors were likewise putting as much space as possible between themselves and Potter and Weasley; even Hermione took a step back. Blackmore saw the bunny sitting in the middle of the room and gave it a puzzled look. "Where did this rabbit come from?" she asked.

The rabbit let out a shrill, earsplitting screech, and all the children hastily clapped their hands over their ears. Blackmore's eyes flew wide open and she bent down to look more closely at the rabbit. "B-Bane?" she stammered.

The bunny screeched again, and began jumping up and down in an agitated manner. The phrase "hopping mad" suddenly popped into Dylan's head, and he had to quickly clamp his hands over his mouth to stifle a surge of hysterical laughter. He definitely did not want to attract Blackmore's attention right now; he was quite certain that she would not find the situation one bit amusing.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY FAMILIAR?!" Blackmore shrieked, and that instantly banished Dylan's desire to laugh. Crabbe and Goyle flung their arms around each other, clinging together as they whimpered in terror, and Damien and Dylan huddled a little closer together as well. Despite all the terrible things he had seen since being forced to join the Death Eaters, Dylan found himself trembling, and he could feel his friend trembling as well. Brad, who had never been particularly friendly with either Dylan or Damien, suddenly pressed close to them, whimpering like a puppy wanting to be comforted, and Dylan didn't have the heart to push him away.

"Oh man, we are so dead!" Damien moaned softly.

Weasley had turned white and was babbling incoherently, and Draco and Potter pointed at each other and said, "He started it!"

That was a mistake, because Blackmore turned her gaze on them, and both boys scuttled backwards several steps. Her face was white, her green eyes were filled with rage, and there was a palpable aura of power around her, just barely held in check, like a volcano about to explode. She spoke in a quiet, deadly voice, biting off her words in clipped phrases. "I. Want. To know. What. Happened. Here."

"It was an accident--" Potter began, while Draco protested, "It's all Potter's fault!"

"Shut up!" Blackmore snapped, and they instantly fell silent. She pointed first at the crowd of Gryffindors, then at the Slytherins and said, "Granger. Rosier." Dylan and Hermione very reluctantly stepped forward. She nodded at Hermione to begin.

"W-well, Draco was m-making some nasty comments about Mudbloods," Hermione stuttered nervously. "And he said the Death Eaters would kill all the Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers."

Blackmore turned to look at Dylan. Under her steely gaze, he didn't bother to try and contradict Hermione's statement, despite the pleading look Draco was giving him. He just picked up where Hermione had left off, saying, "Then Potter and Weasley started taunting Draco about his dad being a criminal."

"Then Draco raised his wand--"

"So did Potter and Weasley--"

"And...well...Bane flew into the room and got hit by the curses," Hermione finished. 

"And what were the rest of you doing while this was going on?" Blackmore coldly asked the cowering groups of Gryffindor and Slytherin students.

"Hermione tried to stop us," Potter said, in a slightly quavering voice, and Dylan had to grudgingly admire his bravery, because if he had been in Potter's shoes, he would be trying to attract as little attention to himself as possible.

"Dylan tried to stop it, too," Hermione added loyally, and Dylan shot her a grateful look.

Blackmore walked over to the fireplace, grabbed a fistful of powder from a jar that sat on the mantle, and flung it onto the cold, unlit hearth. Green flames flared up for a moment, and she shouted, "Professor McGonagall! Severus Snape! I want to talk to you RIGHT NOW!"

Snape emerged from the fireplace a moment later, brushing ashes off his robe, followed by McGonagall. "Professor Blackmore?" he asked, eyeing her warily, looking almost as nervous as his own students. 

McGonagall looked less intimidated, and just said in a puzzled tone, "What's wrong, Branwen?" Then she saw Draco, Potter, and Weasley standing in the middle of the room with their wands out. "I might have known," she sighed.

Blackmore scooped up the black bunny rabbit and cradled him in her arms protectively. "Look what your students have done to my familiar!" she shouted.

"That's Bane?" McGonagall asked incredulously. "Oh my goodness!" Then her face took on a thoughtful look, and she said musingly, more to herself than to Blackmore, "I had no idea Potter and Weasley were capable of performing such an advanced transfiguration."

Bane squealed in outrage, and Blackmore stamped her foot on the ground in a petulant manner. "You can hand out points to Gryffindor later! I want satisfaction for what they've done!"

Snape's black eyes widened as he bent down to examine Bane more closely, hesitantly running a finger along the transformed familiar's sleek black fur. "Oh...my," he said, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he were trying not to smile.

Blackmore noticed, of course. "I fail to see the humor in the situation, Severus," she said in an icy voice.

"A pity it isn't closer to Easter," Snape said, his lips still twitching, and Dylan's jaw dropped open. Had Snape just made a joke?! If so, neither Blackmore nor Bane found it very funny. Bane hissed and opened his mouth wide, exposing long, white incisors. Snape hastily pulled his hand back, warning, "If you bite me, Bane, I swear you'll never get another treat from me, ever!" The rabbit closed his mouth, and grunted irritably.

"I want them punished!" Blackmore screeched, and Dylan watched in amazement. Of course he had not known her very long, but he had never seen her completely lose her composure like this before, and judging by the expressions on their faces, neither had McGonagall or Snape.

"Yes, yes," Snape said soothingly. "I'll give Malfoy detention, of course..."

"Not good enough!" Blackmore snapped, glaring at both Snape and McGonagall. "I want them turned over to me personally, Slytherin and Gryffindors alike!"

All three boys turned sheet-white, and McGonagall smiled, looking extremely amused, and said, "Done!"

Malfoy gave Snape a beseeching look; Snape just gazed back at him coolly, then turned to Blackmore and said, "Very well, but please don't do any permanent damage to him. I promised his mother I'd look after him, you see..." Malfoy stared at him, a look of wounded betrayal in his eyes; Snape ignored him. "But before you start handing out punishments, perhaps we should restore Bane to normal?" 

Bane made a huffy little noise, and gave Snape a look that clearly said, "Well, it's about time!" Snape's lips twitched in that almost-smile again, and he took out his wand, tapped Bane lightly with it, and said, "Finite Incantatum." Nothing happened; Bane still rested in Blackmore's arms, a fuzzy black bunny.

"Uh-oh," Goyle said again.

Snape began to look alarmed. "Finite Incantatum!" he repeated, with the same result. "Minerva?" he asked. "You're the expert in Transfigurations, perhaps if you try..."

All three Professors tried repeatedly to restore Bane to his original form, with no success. Bane let out a loud, anguished squeal. Blackmore looked absolutely livid. She handed Bane to Snape and took out her wand.

"That's it, we're dead," Weasley whimpered.

"Branwen!" McGonagall cried. "You can't attack a student!"  "Just watch me," she said grimly.

Snape looked a little ill at ease, holding the bunny awkwardly; he clearly had little experience in handling cuddly creatures. Dylan might have laughed if the situation hadn't been so tense. "If you kill them now, Branwen," Snape pointed out, "we might never be able to change Bane back. We need to find out what they did to him before we can break the enchantment." 

Bane squealed at her urgently, and Blackmore reluctantly pocketed her wand. "I suppose you're right," she sighed. Turning to Draco, Potter, and Weasley, she said, "My office. Now!" She turned on her heel and walked out the door, followed reluctantly by the three boys, who looked as though they were heading to their executions. McGonagall and Snape--who was still carrying Bane-the-bunny--brought up the rear.

"Why am I still holding the rabbit?" Snape complained, and Bane hissed at him.

"Thank Merlin!" Damien sighed, sliding limply down to the floor in relief, and Brad, Crabbe, and Goyle vigorously echoed that sentiment, as did the remaining Gryffindors, except for Hermione. Dylan, giddy with relief himself, laughed a little at the irony of the situation: for once, Gryffindor and Slytherin were in complete accord, united in their fear of Professor Blackmore. 

"Rosier's losing it," Crabbe muttered as he watched Dylan standing in the middle of the room giggling to himself.

"So who can blame him?" Damien pointed out, and Crabbe nodded in agreement. "Man, I nearly wet myself when Blackmore walked in and saw what happened to Bane!"

"You too, mate?" Dean Thomas asked, apparently forgetting in his relief that Damien was a Slytherin, and thus, the enemy and not his "mate". "I think I _did_ wet myself!" And Damien and his housemates likewise seemed to forget that Thomas was a "Mudblood," and laughed, not mockingly, but good-naturedly. Then all the children were laughing together in slightly hysterical relief.

All but Hermione, that is. "It's not funny!" she protested. "Aren't you worried at all what Blackmore will do to them?"

"Better them than us," Damien declared, and Crabbe and Goyle nodded emphatically. The Gryffindors hesitated to say something so callous, but neither did they seem eager to rush to their friends' defense.

"Well, Ron and Harry should have known better than to do something like that, especially after you tried to warn them," Ginny Weasley finally said. "Besides, I'm sure Professor Blackmore won't _really_ kill them," she added, although she didn't sound very sure of that.

"Oh no, she won't kill them," Dylan agreed. "I've heard my mother's stories about Professor Blackmore, and I'm sure she would consider a quick death to be much too merciful a punishment..."

Hermione gave Dylan and his companions a slightly accusing look. "Aren't you worried what she'll do to your friend Draco?"

"Not worried enough to get between him and Blackmore when she's in a rage," Dylan replied dryly, and his housemates nodded in agreement. "Besides, Professor Snape said, 'no permanent damage'..."

"He asked her not to do any permanent damage," Longbottom pointed out timidly, "but she never actually agreed to it."

"You're right," Dylan acknowledged. "Still, she never killed any students that I heard of while my mother was a student here. Then again, none of them ever changed Bane into a bunny rabbit..."

"Dylan!" Hermione exclaimed, looking even more upset. 

"Hey, if you want to go rescue Potter and Weasley, be my guest," Damien said. "It's your funeral. But don't expect any help from us; you Gryffindors are supposed to be the noble ones, after all."

Hermione bristled a little at that, and her friends looked a little shamefaced. She looked pale but determined, and Dylan was afraid she might really try to take on Blackmore by herself, so he hastily said, "Don't be an idiot, Granger! You'll only get in trouble yourself if you try to interfere. Besides, I'm sure Dumbledore won't really let her harm a student." _At least, I hope not,_ he added silently. "She'll just give them some really nasty detention, that's all."

"Probably involving toothbrushes," Goyle muttered.

"Didn't Snape make Ron scrub bedpans in the hospital wing with a toothbrush once?" Dean Thomas asked Ginny Weasley, who nodded.

"He probably got the idea from her," Dylan said. "Snape said she gave the same punishment to my dad once, when he was a kid."

"Really?" Thomas asked, looking interested. "I wonder how many other punishment ideas he got from her?"

"Bedpans, that's nothing," Crabbe said. "She made me and Goyle's dads scrub the entire dungeon with toothbrushes!"

The other children, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike, seemed intrigued by that statement, and clamored to hear more. Crabbe and Goyle looked gratified to be the center of attention for once, even if half of their audience were Gryffindors, and happily recounted the story of how their fathers had once attempted to summon a water elemental as a prank, and instead summoned a mud elemental, which had then broken free and splattered mud all over the dungeon. 

Dylan laughed, not just at the story (although it was funny), but at the sight of a bunch of Gryffindors and Slytherins sitting and conversing together like bosom buddies. Hermione caught his eye and smiled, so no doubt she was thinking the same thing. Dylan gave her a quick wink, and laughed again, thinking that it was a very good thing that Draco wasn't here right now! But then again, this would not be happening if Draco had been present, and he was a little surprised to find that Crabbe and Goyle weren't really so bad when Malfoy wasn't around. Perhaps the Gryffindors weren't really so bad either, when Potter and Weasley weren't around to egg them on against the Slytherins. Well, hopefully Blackmore would keep all three boys too busy to make trouble in either House for quite some time...

*** 

Meanwhile, in Blackmore's office, a disgruntled Bane was sitting on his mistress's desk, twitching his nose irritably as the three boys squirmed under Blackmore's glare.

"All right," she said sternly. "What curses did you boys use?"

"A R-rat-Face H-hex," Ron stuttered. "I wanted Malfoy to look like the rat he is!" Then he gulped and fell silent as all three teachers gave him baleful looks.

"Potter?" Blackmore asked sharply.

"A Curse of Ill Wishing," Harry muttered.

"Where did you learn that?" McGonagall asked, sounding startled. "That isn't taught in any of your classes!"

"I read about it in a book," Harry said, deciding not to mention that he had come across it in the set of textbooks Lupin and Sirius had given him last Christmas, since he didn't want to get them in trouble, too. Of course the books were intended to teach how to defend against such spells, but they mentioned enough about how the spell worked that Harry had figured out how to cast it.

Blackmore gave him a suspicious look, but just turned to Draco, and said, "Malfoy?"

"An Impediment Curse," he said sullenly.

"I don't really see how those three curses could have combined to turn Bane into a bunny," McGonagall said in a puzzled voice.

Snape gave Ron a look of contempt. "Obviously, Weasley's incompetence must have altered the spell somehow. His attempts at magic usually have disastrous results."

"Not since I replaced my broken wand," Ron muttered, but under his breath.

"He tried to turn Malfoy into a rat," Snape continued in his cold voice, "or at least make him resemble one, but he cast the spell wrong, and ended up with a rabbit instead of a rat."

"It was a Rat- _Face_ Hex, not a more powerful transfiguration spell," McGonagall said with a frown. "And why couldn't we undo the hex?"

"The three spells must have somehow combined and had an unexpected effect," Snape replied, a thoughtful look on his face. "It might help if we could see exactly how the spells became combined together. Branwen?"

Blackmore nodded and took out her wand. She pointed it at Bane, and said, "Aperio!" The bunny began to glow with an eerie purplish-black light, and there were glowing strands of light--red, blue, and a sickly yellowish-green--interwoven around his body like a tangled net of colored threads. The three teachers looked down at the bunny and frowned.

"Look at how they're all tangled together!" Snape said. "No wonder we couldn't reverse the spell."

Harry knew it would be wiser to remain quiet, as his teachers seemed to have momentarily forgotten about him, but his curiosity got the better of him. "What spell was that?" he asked timidly. "What are all those lights?"

Blackmore looked up at him, but she looked more worried than angry. "Aperio is called the Revelation Spell--in Latin it means 'to reveal or make clear'. It makes magical auras visible to the human eye. Each of these threads is one of your curses," she said, pointing to the glowing threads of light.

Malfoy had an odd, almost frightened look on his face, as he stared wide-eyed at the glowing bunny. Harry gave him a puzzled look, then asked, "And what is that purplish-black light?"

"That is Bane's personal aura," Blackmore replied, then smiled slightly at the startled look on Harry's face. "He is my familiar, after all; he is a magical creature of sorts."

"This is the Impediment Curse," Snape said, pointing to the red thread. "And this, the supposed Rat-Face Hex." He pointed at the blue thread. "And this, the Curse of Ill Wishing." He pointed at the yellowish thread, and frowned again. "I think I see what has happened now. The Curse of Ill Wishing worked all too well." He glared at Harry and said, "It is a powerful curse, Potter, and not to be flung about in childish games. It brings bad luck upon its victim, and is very difficult to break." He still looked angry, but confused and a little wary as well. "You should not have been able to cast it at your level, not just from having read about it in a book."

"I see," Blackmore murmured. "The ill wishing affected the other curses, enhancing them and bringing out the worst possible effects."

"It made not just the victim's face, but his entire body change into a rat, or rather, a rabbit," Snape continued. "And Impedimenta, when you think about it, is a freezing spell of sorts. Normally it just freezes the victim in place, leaving him unable to move." He scowled, perhaps recalling how Harry's father and Sirius had once used it on him as a child. "But in this case, combined with the Curse of Ill Wishing, it has served to freeze the effects of Weasley's hex, locking Bane into his rabbit form. That is why a simple Finite Incantatum spell was unable to reverse the effect."

Bane let out an anguished little squeal, and began thumping one of his hind feet on the table angrily. Harry turned pale and said, "He's not stuck in that form permanently, is he? Now that you know what happened, you can undo it, right?" 

"Oh God, we're dead!" Ron said in a voice that was high and squeaky with fear. Malfoy said nothing, but he had turned deathly white.

Snape gave them a nasty grin, then said, "To restore Bane, we'll have to untangle the spell-threads, one by one. It should be difficult, but not impossible." He took out his wand and carefully touched it to the glowing red thread and muttered a brief incantation under his breath. He slowly lifted his wand, and the red thread clung to the wand and came away with it, slowly unraveling from around Bane's body. It got stuck a couple of times where it crossed with the blue thread, but Snape muttered again, and the thread came loose and continued to pull away from the rabbit's body. But then the thread reached a point where it was entangled with the yellow-green thread of the Curse of Ill Wishing, and suddenly it came free from the wand and snapped back to Bane's body like rubber band that had been pulled taut and then released. There was a brief, blinding flash of light, and Snape and the bunny were flung apart. Snape staggered backwards, crashing into a bookcase, and Bane skidded across the desk; he would have fallen over the edge if Blackmore had not quickly stepped forward and caught him. 

She cradled the bunny against her chest and snapped, "Be careful, Severus!"

"I was trying to," Snape replied testily, rubbing his shoulder where it had struck the bookcase.

McGonagall said, "Obviously, it's going to take some time to figure out how to unravel the spells."

Bane let out an indignant squeal, as if to say, "You mean I'm stuck being a bunny for God knows how long?!"

Blackmore petted her familiar soothingly, but when she lifted her face to stare at her three errant students, her green eyes were filled with a cold fury. The three boys took a hasty step back. "Fifty--no, one hundred points from Gryffindor!" Blackmore said in a glacial voice, and Harry shuddered; he could almost feel the temperature in the room drop several degrees. "And fifty from Slytherin!"

Snape scowled furiously at that, but was clearly too fearful of her to object.

"And you will all write me an essay on the dangers of using curses irresponsibly. Two feet of parchment due the day after tomorrow. As for detention..." She hesitated and the three boys held their breath. She frowned and said, "I'm so angry that I can't think of a punishment fitting of your crime." Then she smiled, an evil smile worse than any Snape had ever given them. "But don't worry, I'll think of one in time." The boys began to tremble. "For now, you will report to the hospital wing every day afterschool and scrub bedpans until I decide what your punishment will be. With toothbrushes. If you run out of bedpans, you can scrub the toilets in the boys' bathrooms." She leaned forward and breathed in a menacing whisper, "And you had better hope we can cure Bane, because if we can't..." She drew a finger across her throat. Malfoy whimpered, and so did Ron. "Now get out of my sight!"

The boys didn't wait to be told twice; they fled from her office and didn't stop running until they had reached the end of the hall and gone up a flight of stairs. Then they paused and leaned against the wall, panting and trying to catch their breath.

"Merlin's Beard, I thought she'd kill us!" gasped Ron.

"She still might, if they can't change Bane back!" Malfoy said darkly. "This is all your fault, Weasley! It's your botched curse that turned him into a bunny!"

"If _you_ hadn't--" Ron started to retort.

"Oh, shut up, both of you!" Harry shouted. "If they catch us fighting, we'll be in even more trouble!" Both Ron and Malfoy subsided into a sulky silence. Then something occurred to Harry, and he asked Malfoy, "Why were you looking at Bane so strangely, when Blackmore cast the Aperio spell?"

"Didn't you see his aura, Potter?" Malfoy demanded.

"Yeah, it was sort of purplish-black," Harry replied. "What of it?"

"Well, I suppose one can't expect a Muggle-born like you to know such things," Malfoy sneered condescendingly.

"Why, you--" Ron said, clenching his fists. Harry's temper flared as well, but suddenly he remembered Snape saying during his Occlumency lessons, "You must learn to control your emotions, Potter." He took a deep breath and placed a restraining hand on Ron's arm.

"Then why don't you enlighten me, Malfoy?" Harry asked quietly.

Malfoy looked confused, and a little disappointed that Harry didn't get mad, but he replied, "His aura is dark, nearly black. That's a sign of a Dark Creature."

Ron said, "Well, he's bad-tempered and all, but--"

"Not just mean or bad-tempered," Malfoy snapped, "but Dark, with a capital D! As in magical, as in he's not just a normal raven! Maybe he's not even a raven at all!"

"What do you mean, Malfoy?" Harry asked, puzzled and a little frightened.

Malfoy looked around nervously as if to make sure no one else was in earshot, then leaned forward and whispered, "She's had that bird since my dad was a kid. Shouldn't he be getting on in years by now? But he still looks young and healthy, and so does she, for that matter! She looks younger than Snape, but she's at least ten years older than him! They used to say that the Blackmores practiced the Dark Arts--"

"And how does this make them different from the Malfoys?" Ron muttered, but Harry shushed him.

Malfoy glared at Ron, but continued, "They used to say that the Blackmores had demon blood. The Slytherins of my father's time used to say that Bane was her demon familiar!"

"That's ridiculous!" Ron snorted. Then he looked at Harry and asked uncertainly, "Isn't it?"

"Maybe she knows some things about the Dark Arts," Harry said slowly, remembering the conversation he'd had with Blackmore about Snape's memories in the Pensieve, remembering how she had said that her father had tutored her in the Dark Arts so that she would be able to defend herself against such spells. "But surely she's no demon, and neither is Bane!"

"They used to say she had the power to summon demons," Malfoy insisted. "And how else do you explain Bane's aura and why Blackmore still looks so young?"

"But Dumbledore wouldn't let a demon into the school!" Harry protested.

"The old man is too softhearted to realize what she is!" Malfoy retorted. "Do you know that the Dark Lord sent three Death Eaters to kill her fifteen years ago? The next day, Aurors from the Ministry found them ripped up into itty-bitty little pieces! And Blackmore and Bane vanished, and didn't show up again till this past summer!"

"If she's fighting your dad's pals, the Death Eaters, then she's no demon!" Ron said, but he looked a little nauseous.

Harry felt a bit queasy himself, at the thought of the Death Eaters being turned into "itty-bitty little pieces," however evil they were. He knew that Blackmore's mysterious ally had killed the Death Eaters who had attacked her, but he had never heard the details before, and now he understood why Mrs. Weasley had not wanted Blackmore to discuss her disappearance with Harry and the other children. "She's not evil," he insisted, but his voice was a little shaky. Where had she disappeared to for all those years? Who was the mysterious ally who saved her and killed the Death Eaters? Maybe Malfoy was right, after all... 

Then he remembered that she had treated him kindly, talking to him about his mother last summer, and he remembered how after he had come to Sirius, frightened and confused about what he had seen in the Pensieve, she had gently explained to him about his father's hatred of the Dark Arts and how that had been the source of his animosity towards Snape. He remembered how fond she was of Sirius, Snape, and Lupin, and how pleased she was that the latter two had become a couple. He remembered how she had fought the Death Eaters at the Ministry and saved Sirius from falling through the veiled arch. He didn't know exactly what would have happened if Sirius had gone through it, but he instinctively sensed that it would have been very bad. 

"She's not a demon," he said more firmly.

Malfoy shrugged. "Think whatever you like, Potter, but don't say I didn't warn you!" Then he stomped off.

"What if Malfoy's right?" Ron asked fearfully.

"Even if he is, there's not much we can do about it," Harry pointed out. "It's not like we're powerful enough to defend ourselves against a demon. We'll just have to serve our detention and hope they can change Bane back."  "That's very reassuring," Ron muttered sarcastically as they headed to Gryffindor Tower.

*** 

Two days later, Harry, Ron, and Draco turned in their punishment essays to Professor Blackmore. Bane sat on Blackmore's desk, still in his bunny form, glaring at them and twitching his nose.

"I'm really, really sorry, Professor," Harry said in a chastened voice. 

Blackmore no longer looked quite so angry, but neither did she look particularly forgiving. "I believe you, Mr. Potter--"

Harry winced; she was calling him "Mr. Potter" instead of "Harry," which was probably a bad sign.

"--but sometimes an apology is not enough. When you act without thinking, sometimes the consequences of your actions cannot be undone with mere words. What you have done to Bane is bad enough; what if you had hurt or killed him? What if it had not been Bane, but one of your classmates who was hit by the curses and seriously injured? What good would 'I'm sorry' do then?"

Harry flushed and hung his head; so did Ron. Draco merely looked sullen.

"Take your seats," Blackmore said curtly, and the boys hastened to obey. She gazed at the class silently for a moment, then said, "I've endured this ridiculous House rivalry since before I was your age, and I have had just about enough of it. You will learn to get along with each other, like it or not, or you will fail this class." The students stared back at her, anger and confusion in their eyes, which quickly changed to apprehension as she smiled in a way that boded ill for them. It was remarkably similar to the way Professor Snape smiled when he was about to pounce on a student's shortcomings or hand out detention.

"Your next assignment is to summon an air elemental. You have two weeks to research and prepare the runes, protective circle, incantation, and material components for the spell. However, this time I will assign your partners. Group number one: Miss Parkinson, Miss Bulstrode, Miss Patil, and Miss Brown."

"What?!" Pansy Parkinson and Parvati Patil exclaimed as Millicent Bulstrode and Lavender Brown glared at each other.

"Do you have any objections, Miss Parkinson, Miss Patil?" Blackmore asked in a cold voice, a very dangerous look in her eyes.

"No, Professor," they mumbled in sulky voices, gazing down at their desks, unable to meet her eyes.

"Good. Group number two: Mr. Nott, Mr. Zabini, Mr. Finnigan, and Mr. Thomas." The boys eyed each other with distaste, but made no protests. "Group number three: Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, Miss Granger, and Mr. Longbottom." Crabbe and Goyle scowled furiously, but were much too cowed to object. Longbottom gulped and stared at Crabbe (who had once nearly choked him to death) nervously, while Hermione looked taken aback, but managed a brave, if rather forced, smile.

Meanwhile, Ron, Harry, and Draco were staring at each other in horror. Blackmore grinned in a positively evil way, and practically purred, "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Malfoy will form the final group."

"You can't make us work with that slimy git!" Ron wailed.

"You can't make me work with those Gryffindors!" Draco cried in outrage.

"I most certainly can," Blackmore said, with a great deal of satisfaction in her voice. "Ten points off both Gryffindor and Slytherin! Five for your insolence, and another five for being stupid enough to challenge me after your last little escapade."

The fierce rivalry and antipathy between the Houses seemed to temporarily override the boys' common sense. "But Malfoy is always out to get us," Ron protested. "He'll ruin the project just to spite us!"

"I'm not getting a failing grade because of Weasley's incompetence!" Draco snapped in response, curling his upper lip in a sneer.

"Make that twenty points!" snapped Blackmore. "Would you like to try for thirty?" The boys fell silent. "Good. Let me make this clear: your grade depends not just on successfully summoning the elemental, but on how well you work together. If you try to work independently of your partners, you will fail even if the summoning succeeds. You're dismissed early today; use the extra time to go to the library and begin your research. Except for you three--Potter, Weasley, Malfoy. I want to talk to you."

The class hastily filed out, breaking into their assigned groups. Harry, Ron, and Draco squirmed nervously in their seats as Blackmore looked down at them sternly. "Yes, I think that will do nicely as a punishment," she said. "I can't think of anything a typical Gryffindor or Slytherin would hate more than being forced to work with one another. But you will still continue to scrub bedpans or toilets afterschool, one hour per day, until Bane is cured." She smiled as the boys stared at each other in horror; what if it took weeks or even months to cure Bane? What if he was never cured? 

"Just be grateful that I'm not banning you from playing Quidditch as well," she added, and they looked even more horrified at that thought. "I did consider it, but I am reluctant to make your teammates suffer for your misdeeds. However, if there are anymore arguments in class or hexes thrown, you will be banned from Quidditch for the entire school year. Do I make myself clear, gentlemen?"

"Yes, Professor," the boys chorused glumly.

"Good. Now you had best head to the library and start your research."

The boys left the room, looking very subdued and humbled for once. Blackmore smiled and stroked the rabbit sitting on her desk. "Well, at least they have something in common now--they can commiserate together about how cruel and unfair the demonic Professor Blackmore is. Friendships have been founded on less. You know, Bane, you're kind of cute like this. I don't suppose you'd care to remain a bunny?" Bane growled and bared his teeth at her. Blackmore laughed, and he glared at his mistress, looking very disgruntled.

*** 

"This is all your fault," Draco complained as they sullenly trooped off to the library.

"Our fault?" Ron said indignantly. "We were just minding our own business when you--"

"Oh, knock it off, both of you," Harry said wearily. "We'll be in detention till we graduate if you keep it up. Not to mention getting banned from the Quidditch team."

The other two boys fell silent. Ron was looking forward to a repeat of last year's victory, when he had helped to win the game for Gryffindor; it was very rare that he got a chance to shine at something, when he was surrounded by so many older brothers, not to mention Harry, though he was Ron's best friend. Ron was never going to be a legendary wizard, like Harry was clearly destined to be, or smart like Hermione, but he had finally found something he was good at, and he wasn't going to risk losing his place on the team, even if meant working with Malfoy. 

Meanwhile, Draco felt a little torn; if he could get Potter kicked off the team, that would increase Slytherin's chances of winning this year. They might even have a chance to win the Quidditch Cup back! But...getting Potter and Weasley in trouble would probably result in Draco being banned from the Slytherin team as well. Dylan was a natural on a broomstick, and could probably take over as Seeker--but what good was winning the Cup if Draco couldn't share in the glory? 

He had dreamed of the moment he'd be able to lord it over Potter, see the humiliation and defeat in his eyes. In his fantasy, Draco saw his father beaming at him proudly, although he knew that Lucius Malfoy was unlikely to be attending any Quidditch matches in the near future. But...on the other hand, Draco knew deep down that they were unlikely to defeat Gryffindor while Potter was on the team; if he got rid of Potter, at least Slytherin would win, even if Draco couldn't participate directly. The idea of making such a sacrifice for the greater good was completely foreign to Draco's nature, and he struggled inwardly for several minutes, debating whether winning the Cup was worth seeing someone else, probably Rosier, receive the glory that was rightfully Draco's. 

What if Dylan proved to be a better Seeker than Draco? A feeling of worry and resentment gnawed at his stomach; he thought sourly to himself that it just wasn't fair that Dylan was so damn perfect! He was handsome, charming, smart, talented at both magic and Quidditch--wasn't there ANYTHING he was bad at?! _I can beat Potter myself,_ he told himself firmly. _This year I really will beat him! I'll show him, show everyone, that I'm better than him!_

By the time Draco had made his decision, they had reached the library. The other groups were already hard at work, browsing in the stacks, or sitting at the tables reading and taking notes.

"Ron, why don't you start researching the incantation?" Harry said. "I'll do the runes, and Malfoy can look up the material components."

"Who put you in charge?" Draco sneered. "I don't have to take orders from you!"

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to picture his anger draining out of him. At least the control he practiced for his Occlumency lessons was proving to be useful; he smiled a little as he thought to himself that Snape had probably not intended for him to use it in quite this way! That made him feel better, and he was able to say calmly, "Look, Malfoy, I don't like this any better than you do, but we don't have a choice. We have to work together or fail the class. Let's just get this over with as quickly as possible, okay?"

Draco looked at him suspiciously, but Potter's words made sense. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "But I don't want to do the material components," he added, just to prove that he wasn't going to let a Gryffindor push him around.

"Fine," Harry sighed. "What would you like to do, then?"

Draco blinked, surprised that Potter was being so agreeable. "Um...the runes, I guess."

"Fine," Harry repeated. He glanced at Ron, who was still glaring at Malfoy, though he had managed to keep his temper in check so far. Harry decided that their fragile new alliance probably couldn't stand much more strain, and suggested, "Shall we split up and compare notes later, then?"

"Fine," Draco said curtly, and watched the Gryffindor boys head into the stacks together. He scowled for a moment, then stomped off to look up information on runes and protective circles. But when he got to the shelves, he found that most of the books he was looking for had already been pulled off the shelf by his classmates. His mood rapidly growing blacker by the second, he set off to find his housemates. Soon enough, he spotted Nott and Zabini sitting at a table with their Gryffindor partners. They all had books lying open in front of them, and were taking notes, working together quietly, if a bit sullenly. As Draco approached he saw that, sure enough, Nott was using one of the books he wanted.

"Give me that book, Nott," Draco ordered.

Theodore looked up, startled, then automatically picked up the book, but Seamus Finnigan snatched it out of his hand. "Get your own book," he snapped. "This one's ours!"

"All the books on protective circles are checked out," Draco whined.

"That's not our problem," said Dean Thomas.

"Why don't you let Draco have the book?" Blaise suggested in a nervous but placating tone. "We can get it back from him later. The three of us are all in the same House, after all, so Draco could use it now, and Theo and I can work on it later tonight."

"We had it first," Seamus said stubbornly. "Let _him_ wait till we're done with it!"

"Just give him the damn book, Finnigan!" Theodore growled. "I'll finish copying the runes later."

"No," Seamus said, refusing to give in. "It's signed out in my name, and I'm keeping it!"

Draco's face began to turn red, and Blaise quickly said in a soothing tone, "We'll bring it to you as soon as we're done with it. And Dylan said that his mother sent him all her old notes from her elemental-summoning project. Her fifth-year project was summoning an air elemental with Dylan's dad--"

"I know, I know," Draco said impatiently. He must've heard about a hundred times how Ariane Donner had met Evan Rosier in Blackmore's class--it was Dylan's favorite story, and all the girls in Slytherin, with the possible exception of Avery, seemed to think it was incredibly romantic. Personally, Draco thought Dylan was a bit of a mama's boy, but he supposed that was only natural, since Dylan's father was dead and he had been raised by his mother. Draco's father had told him privately that Evan Rosier was a fool to have risked his status in Slytherin, not to mention his life--because he had joined the Death Eaters with the intent of gaining enough power to force the Donners to allow his marriage to Ariane--all for the sake of a woman. 

"One who allows himself to be ruled by sentiment will never attain the ultimate height of power," Lucius Malfoy had said. "Never forget that, my son. Evan was useful to us, as Dylan shall be, but they are followers, not leaders. And Malfoys are born to be leaders."

"--so I'm sure he wouldn't mind loaning his notes to you," Zabini was saying.

"Huh?" Draco said, snapping back to the present. "Oh, yeah, he'd better not. I'll go talk to Rosier."

Blaise watched Draco leave, feeling a bit guilty for diverting him to Dylan. But Dylan always seemed to know how to handle Draco's moods and pacify him.

"Thanks a lot," Theodore said sarcastically to Dean and Seamus.

"Hey, just because you lot suck up to Malfoy, doesn't mean that we have to as well," retorted Seamus.

"You're not the ones who have to live with him!" snapped Theodore.

"I don't know what it's like in Gryffindor," Blaise said, in a quieter and less hostile voice, "but in Slytherin, Draco can make life miserable for anyone who crosses him. You might think it's fun to piss him off, but we're the ones who will suffer for it."

The two Gryffindor boys exchanged a glance, feeling a little guilty, and then resentful for having been made to feel sorry for a Slytherin. It was easy to dislike Theodore, who was sullen and abrasive, and it took no effort at all to hate Draco Malfoy, but it was a little harder to find an excuse to hate Blaise, when he was being so reasonable and polite, even after they had just gotten him into trouble with Malfoy. They almost wished he would say something rude, so they could go back to loathing the Slytherins with a clear conscience.

"Don't you ever get tired of being pushed around by Malfoy?" Dean finally asked.

Blaise shrugged. "That's life. Everybody has to put up with stuff they don't like: homework if you're a kid, a job you hate if you're an adult--"

"Working with Gryffindors," Theodore muttered.

"--so what's the point in complaining about it? It doesn't change anything."

"Why don't you just tell Malfoy to bugger off?" Seamus demanded.

Blaise and Theodore exchanged a look that clearly said, "Can they really be that stupid?"

"Do I look suicidal?" Theodore asked, scowling.

"Draco's father is a very powerful man," Blaise said carefully.

"Not anymore!" Dean protested. "He's a criminal on the run."

Blaise and Theodore exchanged another look. They both knew that only made Lucius Malfoy more dangerous, not less. "The Malfoys are still a very influential family," was all Blaise would say on that subject. "We should get back to work."

Seamus reluctantly handed the book back to Theodore, who resumed taking notes, mumbling something about thick-headed Gryffindors. Dean and Seamus began muttering under their breath about slimy Slytherins. Blaise said irritably, "Oh, shut up, all of you. Do you want to join Potter and Weasley and Malfoy in detention if Professor Blackmore hears you've been fighting?" The other boys fell silent and turned back to their books, resuming their uneasy truce.

*** 

Draco caught Dylan between classes, and the younger boy promised to lend Draco his notes, assuring him that they had extensive information on the runes required for the protective circle. Dylan even ran back to the dorm during their lunch hour to fetch the notes, which improved Draco's mood slightly. After classes were over for the day, Draco stopped by Snape's office.

"Shouldn't you be in detention right now, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked, looking up from the papers he was grading. He smiled in a nasty way as he scrawled a failing grade across a Gryffindor student's paper in red ink. Good; if Snape was in a good mood, maybe he'd be more inclined to grant Draco's request.

"Yes, sir," Draco replied. "But I just wanted to talk to you for a moment first." Snape laid down his quill and looked at him expectantly. "Professor Blackmore's forcing us to work with Gryffindor partners in her class!" Draco burst out. "She's making me work with Potter and Weasley."

"Yes," Snape said calmly, "I know. She's very big on inter-House cooperation. She did the same thing when I was a student; I had to work with the werewolf, of all people! A most unpleasant experience, but I survived it, and I imagine you will as well. You have my condolences, though, for being stuck with Potter and Weasley."

This was not quite the response Draco had been hoping for. "But Professor, can't you do something--?"

Snape scowled at him. "Do you not recall me telling you to keep a low profile, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, sir, but--"

"And do you not recall me saying that my position at Hogwarts is rather tenuous at present?"

"Yes, sir, but--"

"I warned you, and you did not heed those warnings," Snape said coldly. "Now you must suffer the consequences." Draco scowled sullenly, and Snape seemed to relent a bit, either feeling sorry for Draco, or, more likely, remembering that Draco's father was his superior in the Death Eaters. "I'm sorry, Draco," he said in a more sympathetic tone, "but you will just have to live with your punishment. Professor Blackmore is a formidable mage, and not one I care to cross."

"But you're my Head of House, and you outrank her," Draco pointed out. "You have more seniority--"

"Actually, the Professor predates me at Hogwarts," Snape said, looking a little amused. "She was my teacher when I was a student here. But you are correct; I have been teaching here for fifteen years, while Professor Blackmore taught for seven before she...ah...took an extended leave of absence, shall we say? So technically, I might have more seniority than her, but Blackmore never cared much for technicalities or rules--in case you haven't noticed. If McGonagall and I hadn't been there the other day, she might have blasted the three of you into piles of ash." Draco shuddered a little. 

"Yes, Professor Blackmore always did have a bad temper," Snape said, almost nostalgically, and Draco shot him a wounded look, which he ignored. "She may have been a Ravenclaw, but she comes from a long line of Slytherins who were rumored to practice the Dark Arts. And those weren't the only rumors--have your parents told you the stories about the Blackmores having demon blood?"

Draco nodded, turning pale, and asked in a hushed voice, "Is it true? Does she have demon blood?"

Snape shrugged. "I don't know. But she apparently slew three Death Eaters single-handedly--or she and whatever creature she summoned did. Either way, she's no one to trifle with. Don't antagonize her, Draco."

"Yes, sir," Draco said glumly.

"You'll only have to work with Potter and Weasley for a couple of weeks," Snape said. "Consider it an exercise in control."

"Yes, sir," Draco repeated, just as glumly. 

"Now you had better head over to the hospital wing to serve your afternoon's detention before you get into more trouble."

"Yes, sir. Um...are you close to finding a cure for Bane yet, Professor?"

"I'm working on it, Malfoy. Believe me, I don't find the situation amusing." But his lips twitched slightly, and he admitted, "Well, all right, I do find Bane as a bunny rabbit rather funny--"

"Professor!" Draco cried in outrage. To his amazement, Snape smiled.

"But," Snape added, "I'd prefer not to have Professor Blackmore mad at me, and I'm almost as eager as you are to find a way to break the curse. She comes into my office at least twice a day and glowers at me and says, 'Have you found a way to undo the curse yet, Severus?'" He mimicked Blackmore's imperious tone of voice, and Draco smiled a little in spite of himself.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I didn't mean to get you into trouble."

"You must learn to think before you act, Draco," Snape said, but without any heat in his voice, and Draco nodded obediently. "Well, she seems to be harassing McGonagall twice as much, so that's a slight consolation. As strict as she is, she's always been notoriously fair, and since there were two Gryffindors involved and only one Slytherin, she seems to hold Gryffindor twice as accountable."

Well, it didn't seem that way from Draco's point of view, but he knew better than to argue with Snape, and at least Snape seemed to be taking it well; he didn't want both of them mad at him! In fact, he felt rather flattered that Snape had unbent enough to joke with him a little bit.

"You're dismissed, Draco. Try to stay out of trouble from now on."

"I will, sir," Draco promised, and left.

*** 

As soon as the boy left, Snape burst out laughing. He was still chuckling and wiping tears from his eyes when Lupin stepped out of the fireplace.

"Don't let Branwen catch you laughing, Severus," he said, but his eyes sparkled with merriment as well. "She's still quite peeved about what happened."

"But it's so funny," Snape said with a grin. "That bird terrorized us when we were children, and to see him sitting there all cute and fuzzy and twitching his nose..." He couldn't help himself, he started laughing again. Which was not a bad thing, it turned out, because Lupin locked the door then came around behind the desk and sat down on Snape's lap.

"I love the way you look when you laugh," he murmured, gently tracing the curve of Snape's lips with his fingers. "You should do it more often."

"I don't think Branwen would appreciate having Bane turned into a bunny on a regular basis," Snape said, still laughing.

"That's not what I meant," Lupin said with mock-sternness, and waggled his finger at Snape in admonishment.

"I also reminded Draco about the old rumors of the Blackmores having demon blood," Snape said, grinning widely. "It was almost like old times," he said nostalgically, "the way we older students would terrorize the first years with stories about the demonic Professor Blackmore. He completely bought it, too; you should have seen his face--he was white as a ghost, and his eyes were as big as saucers!"

"Well, it's true," Lupin pointed out. "She does have demon blood."

"Which would come as no surprise to Draco or any of her other students, I assure you," Snape said, with a low, wicked-sounding laugh.

Lupin shivered a little, and Snape saw the wolf begin to stir behind his blue eyes. "I thought you were going to be the...what was the term Tonks used? Good cop to Branwen's bad cop."

"Good and bad are relative terms, especially for a Slytherin," Snape said in a smooth, silky voice, wrapping his arms around Lupin. "Would you like to see how good...or how bad...I can be, Lupin?"

"Yes," gasped Lupin, fumbling with the fastenings on Snape's robes.

"This is very unprofessional behavior, you know," Snape said in an almost conversational tone as he began to undress Lupin as well.

"Mm-hm," Lupin agreed, kissing Snape's neck. "Quite."

"And it's all your fault," Snape continued, as his hands slipped beneath Lupin's robe and shirt and caressed his chest; Lupin gasped again. "For starting that 'quickie between classes' thing."

"A Gryffindor corrupting a Slytherin," Lupin said with a grin. "What is the world coming to?"

"It's utterly scandalous," Snape agreed, then all talk ceased as Lupin hungrily covered Snape's mouth with his own.

*** 

The various groups in Blackmore's classes were reluctantly cooperating (she had assigned similar projects, with mixed partners, to all of her classes). There was a lot of griping going on in the Gryffindor boys' dorm, particularly from Dean Thomas. It wasn't so much about being forced to work with Blaise and Theodore--whom he reluctantly conceded were doing their share of the work without arguing--but because Ginny had been assigned to work with Dylan Rosier's group (which also consisted of Colin Creevey and Damien Pierce, but Dylan was the one that Dean was worried about).

He found no sympathy from his Slytherin partners, of course. When he told the two boys to "tell your friend Rosier to keep his hands off my girl," Theodore retorted, "Tell him yourself! Do I look like your messenger boy?"

"I swear, if he puts the moves on her--"

"I assure you," Theodore said, in a sarcastic voice worthy of Snape, "that no Slytherin in their right mind would 'put the moves'--as you so quaintly phrase it--on a Gryffindor."

"Don't you trust your girlfriend?" Blaise asked mildly.

"Well, yeah," Dean said, flustered by that unexpected question, "but..."

"Then there's no problem, right?"

"But..."

Even Seamus, his best friend, was a little tired of hearing Dean's jealous rants about Dylan Rosier. He clapped Dean on the shoulder and said, "Don't worry, mate! Ginny's not the type of girl to fool around, you know that."

"Yeah, I know, I just..."

"Dylan has half the girls in the school chasing after him--" Blaise started to say.

"Only half?" Seamus asked ironically, raising his eyebrows.

Blaise smiled a little. "So he's got no need to go poaching someone else's girlfriend."

"Can we please get back to work?" Theodore asked in an aggrieved tone.

"I just wish Rosier would pick one girl and get it over with," Seamus sighed as he picked up his book. "Then the others would finally give up on him, and settle for being consoled by one of us."

*** 

Meanwhile, in the girls' dorm, Ginny was complaining about Dean's jealousy. "He's so possessive! I've told him over and over that I'm not interested in Dylan, but it's like he doesn't believe me! I asked him, 'Why are you going out with me if you don't trust me?'"

"And what did he say?" Hermione asked patiently.

"'It's Rosier I don't trust, not you,'" Ginny replied in disgusted voice.

Parvati giggled. "Don't mind him; all the boys are jealous of Dylan!"

"You're sooo lucky that you get to work with him," Lavender sighed. "I'd gladly trade places with you!" 

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Dylan's nice, but it's causing so much trouble with Dean!" Then she suddenly laughed and said, "If only he knew it was Damien that keeps flirting with me, not Dylan!"

Parvati and Lavender giggled. "My, aren't you the popular one?" Parvati asked archly

Ginny grinned. "Well, Damien seems to chase after anything that wears a skirt, so I don't think it's anything special about me."

"He is kind of cute," Lavender conceded, "but Dylan's still the handsomest boy in school."

Parvati and Lavender were getting along well enough with their Slytherin partners. There were a few snide remarks exchanged during their study sessions, but the four girls had discovered that they all shared the same favorite pastime: gossiping about Dylan Rosier. Parvati and Lavender expressed envy that the two Slytherin girls actually got to live in the same dorm as Dylan, so Pansy and Millicent regaled them with stories about Dylan; Parvati and Lavender found even the mundane details of his daily activities fascinating. 

In return, Parvati, whose sister Padma was in Ravenclaw, answered the Slytherins' questions about Lisa Turpin, the only girl Dylan had ever gone out with. Occasionally things would get a little tense when the Slytherins would haughtily say that a Gryffindor had no chance with Dylan, but then Parvati would point out that Dylan had never dated a Slytherin girl, either. Then they would all sigh and commiserate together. And even Pansy and Millicent had to agree that Dylan's parents' star-crossed love affair was incredibly romantic and tragic. Actually, the only real problem they had in working together was that they found it difficult to stop gossiping long enough to get any work done.

*** 

About a week had gone by since Blackmore had handed out their assignments. The Professors had still not found a way to lift the curse on Bane, so Harry, Ron, and Draco were still condemned to scrubbing bedpans and toilets--with toothbrushes. It had gotten to the point where Harry could hardly bring himself to brush his teeth at night before bed, because the very sight of a toothbrush made him recoil in horror. He knew that Ron and Malfoy felt the same way, because during their last detention session, Malfoy had groaned, "I never want to see another toothbrush in my life!" Ron and Harry had found themselves nodding sympathetically for a moment before remembering that Malfoy was supposed to be the enemy.

Harry was enjoying a rare moment of leisure one Saturday morning in his dorm room--or at least he was trying to. Dean Thomas was complaining about Dylan Rosier again, and Harry was getting heartily sick of it. Even Ron, who hated Dylan Rosier almost as much as Dean did, was beginning to get a little annoyed.

"Yeah, Rosier's a swell-headed little git," he said, "but my sister's getting fed up with you. What's the matter with you; do you think Ginny would cheat on you? With a Slytherin?!"

"But Dylan makes eyes at all the girls," Dean said defensively.

"Yeah, I know that," snapped Ron, "but the point is, Ginny doesn't make eyes back at him! Or are you calling my little sister a loose woman?"

"Come on, Ron," Harry said, jumping to his feet and grabbing his friend by the arm. "Let's go to the library." _Where it's quiet and peaceful,_ he added silently in his head.

"But it's Saturday," Ron protested.

"We've still got Blackmore's project to work on," Harry said, dragging him out of the room. 

Ron was struggling with the incantation part of the research. He had found several different versions, and was not sure which one they should use. Harry looked at the books and notes he had spread across the study table in the library. "Well, this one's for summoning a Greater Elemental; that's way out of our league, so you can forget that. And this one's a command-type spell; Blackmore says we're suppose to 'request' aid from the elemental, so we want a supplication-type incantation. I guess either of these two would be okay."

Ron groaned, "If only Hermione would let me copy her incantation! But she just says, 'You'll never learn anything, Ron Weasley, if you don't do the work yourself!'"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, that sounds like Hermione! But you should feel sorry for her; she's stuck with Crabbe and Goyle for partners, after all."

"And being stuck with Malfoy is any better?" 

Harry grimaced. "I'm not sure. Malfoy's a prat, but at least he's not stupid."

"He'll sabotage the project just to get back at us, you wait and see," Ron predicted ominously.

Harry laughed, "You're starting to sound like Professor Trelawney!" His friend gave him a wounded look. "We'll have to watch Malfoy carefully, but I don't think he'll sabotage the project if it means he'll fail, too. He's almost as obsessed about his grades as Hermione is."

"That's because he can't stand a Muggle-born girl outranking him in the class standings," Ron said smugly.

"Look, why don't you copy down both of these incantations, then show them to Hermione and ask her which one she thinks is best?" Harry asked, turning his attention back to their project. "I mean, surely she can't object to us asking for a little advice, if we've already done the research and found the incantations on our own."

"Good idea, Harry," Ron said, taking out his quill. As he began copying down the incantations, which were all in Latin, he said gloomily, "I get tongue-tied every time I try to recite the spell. Why don't they ever write spells in plain English? I'm sure to foul it up somehow; maybe you should do the actual incantation when we cast the spell."

"Me?" Harry asked in alarm. "I'm the one who ended up in Knockturn Alley when I pronounced 'Diagon Alley' wrong! I don't think that's a good idea at all!" He paused, then said reluctantly, "Maybe we could get Malfoy to do it."

"Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed. "What if he decided to summon a demon instead of an elemental?"

"He's scared of demons, remember?" Harry reminded him.

"Well, that's true," Ron grudgingly acknowledged. "And I'd almost rather face a real demon than Blackmore. If there's anything scarier than her out there, I don't wanna know about it! I never thought I'd meet a teacher scarier than Snape..."

"Just copy down the incantations," Harry said. "We'll worry about who's going to recite it later." Ron nodded and got back to work, while Harry went to the stacks to do more research. As he was browsing the shelves, he passed by a section on curses. He hesitated, then pulled several books off the shelves and took them back to the table.

As Harry began flipping through the first book, Ron looked up and asked, "Why are you reading about curses? I thought you wanted to get this project finished."

"I do, but I also don't want to scrub toilets and bedpans for the rest of the school year," Harry replied. "I was thinking maybe I could find a way to break Bane's curse in one of these books."

"If Snape and Blackmore and McGonagall can't figure it out, what makes you think you can?"

"You're probably right," Harry sighed. "But I've got to try--I'm starting to have nightmares about toothbrushes! And besides, I feel bad. It's partly my fault Bane ended up being turned into a bunny rabbit."

"Yeah, my fault, too," Ron said guiltily. "But still, Malfoy started it!"

"Yeah, but I'm going to finish it," Harry said in a determined voice. "Snape's always going on about how irresponsible I am. So if I can find a way to help Bane, I can show them that I'm taking responsibility for my actions."

"Them?" Ron asked, sounding a little bewildered. "Them who? I thought you were just talking about Snape, and who cares what he thinks?"

"Snape, Lupin, Blackmore, Dumbledore--all of them," Harry replied. He flushed a little, recalling how Lupin and the Headmaster always looked disappointed in him when he refused to acknowledge Snape's good points. "Besides," he added hastily, trying to brush aside those guilty thoughts, "if we show them that we're being mature and responsible, they'll include us more in--" He stopped himself just in time from mentioning the Order of the Phoenix in public; even though there didn't seem to be anyone within earshot, it was better to be safe than sorry. "In things," he finished lamely, but Ron understood what he was talking about and nodded.

"Okay," Ron said. "I'll help you when I finish with this."

They pored over the books, discovering that it was much easier to cast a curse than to remove one. The main problem seemed to be with the Curse of Ill Wishing. At the time, Harry had not thought that it was particularly dangerous; what it did was infect the victim with a stream of bad luck--usually small but annoying things. Pockets would suddenly develop holes, bookbags would break, the victim would be prone to clumsiness--tripping over nothing in particular, dropping and spilling things, spells would misfire...pretty much everything that could go wrong, would. 

Harry wondered idly if Neville Longbottom had been under such a curse, but his magical abilities, along with his confidence, had dramatically improved since he had joined Dumbledore's Army, so Harry supposed that he had suffered more from low self-esteem than a curse. In any case, the bad luck caused by the curse made it very difficult to lift, since efforts to help the victim tended to go haywire. Normally, it was difficult but not impossible to remove the curse, but apparently its effects had been strengthened when it had combined with the other two spells.

Ron snapped shut the book he had been reading. "Give it up, Harry," he said. "The teachers will have to figure it out. There are instructions here for lifting the individual curses, but nothing about what to do if three spells get mixed up together. Apparently no one's ever done it before."

"Lucky us," Harry sighed. "We're trendsetters."

"I think we're the ones cursed with bad luck," Ron said glumly. "We got stuck having to live with Snape during the summer, we got detention from Blackmore, and now we're being forced to work with that slimy git Malfoy...it would sure be nice to have some good luck for a change. Hey, maybe we could buy a good luck charm in Hogsmeade!"

"I think we need more than one good luck charm," Harry said. "We need a whole field of four leaf clovers!" Then suddenly he recalled something Blackmore had said, when Hob had first come to work for Sirius: "A hob does more than just clean and cook; it makes a house, well...happier. It chases away bad spirits that cause dissension and discord, and makes things run more smoothly...a hob is like a living good-luck charm, you might say."

"Ron," Harry said slowly, "you're a genius."

"I am?" Ron asked, looking pleased but confused.

"I've got to go talk to Blackmore!" Harry exclaimed, and ran out of the library, leaving a bewildered Ron still sitting at the table.

*** 

"...So I got to thinking," Harry explained excitedly to Blackmore, "maybe what we need is some good luck to cancel out the bad luck."

"Well, there are spells that cause good luck, but I don't think they're strong enough--"

"What about Hob?" Harry asked eagerly, as Blackmore blinked and fell silent, looking startled. "I mean, you said once that he was a living good luck charm." She remained silent and Harry's hopes fell. "I guess it was a dumb idea, huh? Ron was right; we could never think of anything that you and the other Professors hadn't already thought of."

"No, Harry," Blackmore said, much to his surprise. "It's a very good idea, and one I hadn't thought of. Hmm...let me talk to Severus." She called Professor Snape through the fireplace in her office, and he arrived a moment later.

Snape listened to Harry's suggestion, then leaned against Blackmore's desk, frowning thoughtfully as he absent-mindedly traced his thin lips with one finger. Bane crept forward and began sniffing at Snape's pockets. He stuck his nose in one pocket, causing Snape to jump with a start, and Blackmore grabbed the bunny and firmly hauled him away from the Potions Master.

"No!" she scolded. "Candy is bad for you in this form!" She told Professor Snape, "He got into some candy the students forgot in the classroom one day, and gave himself a stomachache." She turned back to her familiar and said, "And you didn't like the tonic Madam Pomfrey gave you one bit."

To his surprise, Harry saw that the normally dour Potions Master was trying very hard not to laugh, particularly when Blackmore placed a carrot in front of Bane and said, "Here, if you're hungry, you can have this for a snack." Bane stared at the carrot with such visible disgust on his face that Snape nearly lost control and let out a muffled little snort of laughter, which he quickly covered with a coughing fit when Blackmore turned around to glare at him.

"Are you ill, Severus?" Blackmore asked in a cold voice. "You seemed to have developed a sudden cough."

"Ahem, I'm fine, thank you," Snape said, clearing his throat. "I must have breathed in some ashes when I came through the fireplace," he added with an air of obviously false innocence.

"Remus does the wide-eyed innocent look far better than you do, Severus," Blackmore said caustically.

"Well, getting back to Potter's idea," Snape said, hastily changing the subject, "I must admit that it does have some merit. I don't know if it will work, but it's worth a try."

Bane looked up hopefully, and his mistress said, "Yes, I agree. Certainly nothing else we've tried has worked. We were going to Sirius's tonight for dinner, anyway, so we can try and remove the curse then."

"You're going to see Sirius tonight?" Harry asked wistfully. "I don't suppose--"

"Students aren't allowed off-campus without special permission, and you're still being punished Mr. Potter," Blackmore said sternly, but relented just a little. "But Sirius is coming to your Quidditch match next weekend, so you'll see him soon. And if your idea works, I'll restore...let's see, twenty-five points to Gryffindor and lift your detention."

Snape scowled. "There's no need to reward him for undoing the damage that he caused in the first place."

"Yes, but it is a clever idea, and should be rewarded--if it works," Blackmore said, emphasizing the "if". "And I told the three of them that their detention would last for as long as Bane remained in bunny form." She grinned. "I think that may have given Mr. Potter a little added incentive."

"Yes, ma'am!" Harry said fervently. 

"Don't get your hopes up too high, Mr. Potter," Snape said sourly. "We don't know whether this will actually work or not."

Blackmore glared at him. "Honestly, Severus, one would almost think that you want Bane to be stuck in this form!"

Snape's lips twitched slightly as he looked down at the black bunny, but his expression quickly turned sober as his former teacher continued to glower at him. "Well then, I'll see you later tonight, Branwen," he said, and retreated back through the fireplace.

"You're dismissed, Mr. Potter," Blackmore said. "I'll let you know what happens."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said, and left the office, devoutly hoping that his idea would work.

*** 

"Ooh, he's so cute!" Tonks squealed as she stroked the bunny in Branwen's arms. Bane snapped at her, and she only just barely managed to pull her hand back in time to avoid being bitten. "Still has the same nasty temper, though, I see."

Meanwhile, Sirius's face was turning red and contorting itself violently as he tried to hold back his laughter; Branwen glared at him. Finally, he ran out of the room, but they could hear, "HA HA HA HA HA!" echoing from the down the hallway, which awakened the portraits, and soon Mrs. Black was screaming, "Begone from the house of my fathers!"

Branwen sighed irritably, and Lupin said helpfully, "Well, at least he had the decency to leave the room before he started laughing."

Fred and George eyed Bane with great interest, but were careful to keep a safe distance between themselves and the rabbit's teeth. "Hmm," said George thoughtfully. "We could do a variation on the Canary Creams. A Bunny Butterscotch, maybe? Or a Raspberry Rabbit? A Rocky Road Rabbit?"

Branwen was giving them an evil look, and Molly nervously snapped, "Fred!"

"I'm George, Mum."

"I don't care which one you are, knock it off!"

"Before Branwen turns _you_ into a rabbit," Arthur whispered into his son's ear. "Permanently." 

Both boys gulped and turned pale. "Ah, well, it probably wouldn't sell, anyway," Fred said hastily. 

Snape was grinning in a rather nasty way, clearly imagining the Weasley twins running afoul of Branwen and being turned permanently into bunnies.

"Severus!" Lupin scolded.

"What?" Snape said in a wounded voice. "I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to," Lupin replied dryly.

Meanwhile, Sirius had managed to get himself under control and returned with Hob, who looked nervous at being under the scrutiny of so many wizards. Branwen knelt down on the floor and held out the bunny to him. Hob looked down and frowned at it. "Yes, that is a very nasty mess, indeed, all knotted up like a bunch of string."

"Can you help us?" Branwen asked.

"Hob does not know," the little hob replied. "But Hob will try." He held out his arms, and Branwen placed Bane in them. Hob sat down on the floor, holding the bunny on his lap, gently stroking it. Bane gradually relaxed, and the bad-tempered look left his face, making him look as docile and placid as a real pet bunny.

"Let's try it now," Branwen said softly to Lupin and Snape, and they nodded. Branwen cast the Aperio spell, and each of them touched their wands to a spell-thread: Branwen took the red Impediment thread, Lupin took the blue Rat-Face Hex, and Snape took the yellowish thread of the Curse of Ill Wishing. As they lifted their wands, the spell-threads stuck to them and began unraveling. They worked very slowly and carefully, pausing when they came to a place where the three threads were snarled together in a particularly complex knot. 

Hob carefully reached out and touched the knot, tugging gently at the threads, painstakingly working to loosen the knot, as if the spell-threads were nothing more than a handful of string. He did not completely untangle the knot, but managed to loosen it enough that the three wizards were able to carefully unweave the spell-threads from each other. They continued in this manner, with Hob's good luck apparently serving to cancel out the Curse of Ill Wishing enough to loosen the tangle of threads. It took nearly an hour, but finally the threads completely separated, and each of the wizards held one long thread of a single color attached to their wands.

They jerked their wands upward and simultaneously shouted, "Finite Incantatum!" The three threads pulled loose from the rabbit's body and vanished in a puff of smoke. When the smoke cleared, there was a slightly-dazed looking raven sitting in Hob's lap. 

"Bane!" Branwen cried joyfully, scooping up her familiar and hugging him tightly--a little too tightly. The bird let out a loud, strangled squawk. "Oops, sorry about that," she said apologetically, loosening her hold on him. The bird squawked again; this time it sounded almost like a sigh of relief. Bane hopped up and took his rightful place on his mistress's shoulder.

"Well, I'll be damned," Snape muttered incredulously. "Potter's idea worked." Lupin grinned.

"Thank you, Hob!" Branwen said gratefully, and the little household spirit blushed a little.

"It was nothing. A hob's magic is very small."

"A hob's magic is limited," Branwen corrected, "but it takes a very powerful sort of magic to keep a household running smoothly and contentedly. We couldn't have done it without you. Thank you." She kissed the little man on the cheek, and his face turned bright red.

"You're welcome," Hob mumbled, looking embarrassed but pleased, and vanished.

The wizards sat down at the dinner table together, and Sirius broke open a bottle of wine to celebrate the lifting of the curse. As Sirius handed a glass of wine to Branwen, Bane reached down and pecked his hand sharply.

"Ouch!" Sirius said, nearly dropping the glass; a little of the wine slopped over the side and spilled onto the tablecloth. He rubbed his wounded hand, saying, "What did you do that for, you ungrateful bird?"

"Probably payback for you laughing at him earlier," Snape said with a wicked grin.

"Yeah, tell me you didn't laugh at him, too," Sirius said sullenly.

"'A pity it isn't closer to Easter,'" Lupin reminded Snape, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter.

"Bane knows better than to bite me," Snape said in a haughty voice as the raven glared at him. "I did just help to remove the curse, and besides..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of candy. Bane cawed eagerly. "Friends?" Snape asked, just the faintest hint of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. Bane nodded eagerly, and Snape tossed the candy across the table, Bane caught it in his beak, tore off the foil wrapper with one foot as he balanced precariously on Branwen's shoulder with the other, and swallowed the piece of chocolate in one bite.

"You mean I have to start bribing the damn bird not to attack me?" Sirius grumbled.

Lupin looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, Severus, when you threatened Bane that day in the workroom not to bite you or he'd never get another treat again..."

"What of it?"

"Didn't you just reveal to your students that the big bad Potions Master is a softie who slips treats to Branwen's pet raven?" Lupin asked with a look of wide-eyed innocence.

Snape looked horrified, and Lupin fought to keep a straight face, but soon doubled over with laughter. "It's not funny, Lupin!" Snape said indignantly.

"S-sorry, Severus," Lupin gasped, but he couldn't stop laughing. Branwen and Tonks were laughing as well, Sirius had a wide--and only slightly vindictive--grin on his face, Fred and George were chuckling, and even Arthur and Molly were struggling not to laugh.

Snape gave them all his best threatening glare, but it cowed only Fred and George, who immediately went pale and ceased their laughter. He had been their teacher for so long that fear of the Potions Master was still an involuntary reflex. "I'll just have to show my students that I'm not a 'softie,' as you put it, Lupin," Snape said in a cold and determined voice. Fred and George shuddered a little, and felt very sorry for Snape's students. "Besides," Snape continued, "they were so out of their minds with fear of Branwen, that I doubt any of them noticed what I said..."

*** 

"Blackmore's been in a vile mood lately," Theodore said glumly. "I hope they cure her stupid bird soon." He and his friends were sitting in Dylan's room doing their homework.

"If they can't, maybe she'll kill Potter and Weasley and Malfoy," Damien said hopefully. "I thought she was going to, when she saw Bane turned into a bunny!" Then he frowned slightly and said, "I just thought of something."

"What?" Blaise asked curiously.

"When Snape was making fun of Bane, saying he wished it was Easter or something--"

Dylan snickered. "Who would've thought Snape had a sense of humor?"

"--and Bane was about to bite him, Snape said something like, 'If you bite me, Bane, you'll never get another treat from me again!'"

"Did he?" Dylan asked, frowning in thought. "Yeah, come to think of it, he did."

"Snape gives treats to Blackmore's raven?" Blaise asked incredulously. "That's pretty hard to believe!"

Damien laughed. "Yeah, I could picture Hagrid giving treats to the Professor's familiar, maybe even Dumbledore or Lupin, but Snape? A soft touch? For that bird?"

Blaise grinned. "Bane's scary, and has a bad temper, just like Snape! If you think about it, they make a good pair."

"My mum told me they thought Bane was her demon familiar when she was a first-year," Damien said. "Maybe Snape feeds the bird because he's scared of it! You know, to keep it from attacking him."

"Snape?" Theodore snorted. "Scared? Of a _bird_? Now that's ridiculous!"

The four boys laughed, then Dylan said, "But seriously, Snape's not so bad, really." His three friends stared at him incredulously. "Really," Dylan insisted. "I mean he's been pretty nice to me ever since I started here--well, relatively nice, I mean. For Snape."

"Yeah, he does seem to like you," Damien agreed. "Your dad must've been a good friend of his. I suppose it doesn't hurt that you're really great at Potions."

"Snape's all right," Theodore said, surprising the other boys, and himself as well. Suddenly realizing he might have said too much, he hastily added, "I mean, he's no one to cross, but he looks out for the Slytherins."

"Yeah, I guess," Damien said dubiously. "Looks out for Draco, anyway."

"And he puts the Gryffindors in their place," Theodore added firmly.

"Aw, it's not so bad working with the Gryffindors," Damien said.

"Don't let Malfoy hear you say that," Theodore warned.

Damien grinned. "I'm not stupid. But that Ginny Weasley is pretty cute."

Theodore rolled his eyes, and Blaise said with a grin, "She has a jealous boyfriend. Except he's jealous of the wrong guy! Dean Thomas told me and Theo to tell Dylan to stay away from 'his girl'."

"Me?" Dylan asked, startled. "I've never looked twice at Ginny Weasley! In fact, I got detention for being rude to her at the beginning of term! And she's never flirted with me."

"Unlike Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown," Damien sighed. "It's not fair, that all the prettiest girls in the school are always drooling over you."

"What is your fixation with Gryffindor girls, Pierce?" Theodore growled. 

"It's not a Gryffindor fixation," Damien protested. "I admire any beautiful woman. Cho Chang, Padma Patil, and Lisa Turpin are probably the best-looking girls in Ravenclaw, and in Hufflepuff--"

"Never mind," sighed Theodore. "But you know what Malfoy will do to you if he catches your with a Gryffindor girl--"

"I'm not going to touch Ginny Weasley," Damien said, with a tone of righteous indignation in his voice. Then he grinned. "But there's no harm in looking, right?"

Dylan and Blaise laughed, as Theodore sighed again. "Let's hope not," he said darkly.

*** 

Neville, Hermione, Crabbe, and Goyle were in the Incantations workroom, trying to put their project together. Hermione could have easily performed the summoning by herself, but Blackmore had said that their grade depended on how well they worked together, and quite frankly, it was difficult finding something for Crabbe and Goyle to do. They misspelled the incantations when they tried to copy them from the textbooks, and mispronounced the Latin words when they tried to recite them. At present, they were trying to draw the protective runes on the floor, and not doing very well at that, either. So far, the only useful thing they had done was gather some feathers and herbs for the material components of the spell, which was accomplished by a couple of quick trips to the Owlery and to Snape's office. Since Crabbe and Goyle were Slytherins, Snape had handed the herbs over without giving them a hard time.

"This isn't going to work!" Crabbe said in frustration, throwing the stick of red chalk he had been using across the room. "We're no good at this!"

"I thought we'd be working with Nott and Malfoy," whined Goyle. "I thought they'd be taking care of the runes."

"Well, you're stuck with me and Neville," Hermione retorted, trying--and not quite succeeding--to keep the impatience out of her voice.

"You do it," Crabbe told her. "You're better at it than we are, little Miss Top-of-the-Class-Standings."

"It doesn't matter who's better at it!" Hermione snapped. "Professor Blackmore says we all have to work together or we'll fail!"

"We're gonna fail!" moaned Goyle.

"We have less than a week to get this together!" Neville said anxiously. "My grandmother's going to kill me if I fail a class! How hard can it be to draw a rune? All you have to do is copy the way it's drawn in the book!"

Hermione blinked, looking a little shocked at hearing Neville talk back to anyone, much less a Slytherin he had been terrified of last term. She wasn't sure whether it was the confidence he had gained as a member of Dumbledore's Army or his fear of his grandmother that had fueled his retort.

"Don't you dare try and push me around, you Squib!" Crabbe shouted.

"Who're you calling a Squib?!" Neville shouted back, turning red.

"Enough!" said Hermione, stepping between them. She placed a hand on Neville's shoulder and said in a soothing tone, "We've been working for over an hour; no wonder everyone's getting stressed out. Why don't we all take a break and cool off?" Neville nodded curtly and left the room. Hermione left too, thinking she'd go for a walk, but then remembered that she had left her bookbag in the workroom. She didn't quite trust the Slytherin boys not to mess with it, so she headed back, and to her surprise, found Crabbe and Goyle sitting morosely together in the corner of the room. Goyle's head was bent down and he was sniffling a little as Crabbe patted him on the shoulder.

"Take it easy, Goyle," he was saying.

"We're gonna flunk," Goyle sniffled. "Snape won't help us with Blackmore; he's too scared of her himself. And my mum is gonna tell me I'm stupid and no good, just like my dad..."

"Gregory?" Hermione said softly.

The two boys looked up; Goyle with an expression of horror, and Crabbe with anger. Goyle hastily wiped his face on his sleeve. "What do you want, Mudblood?" Crabbe snapped. "Come to gloat at us?"

Hermione shook her head, but the boys didn't look convinced. "If you tell anybody you saw me crying, I'm gonna kill you!" Goyle threatened.

"Everybody feels sad sometimes," Hermione said sympathetically. "It's nothing to be ashamed of." The Slytherins just looked confused and suspicious. "But I won't tell anyone; my word of honor."

"Not even Potter and your little buddies?" Goyle demanded.

"Not Harry, not anyone," Hermione promised. "My word as a Gryffindor." The boys snorted derisively, but looked slightly appeased. "But look, there's nothing to be upset about...you're having a little trouble with the runes, but I'm sure with some practice--"

"We're stupid, don't you get it?" Goyle shouted. "We're not like you, Miss Smarty-Pants, who gets good grades without even trying! Everybody knows it, even Malfoy--he says he's the brains and we're the brawn, that's all we're good for! We only pass our classes every year because Snape makes sure that we don't flunk out!"

"But Snape's scared of Blackmore," Crabbe said glumly. "Never thought I'd meet a teacher scarier than Snape."

"You're not stupid," Hermione said gently. "It's just...well, some people are better than others at certain things. Everyone is good at something."

"We're good at beating people up," Crabbe said. "That's about it."

"I'm sure there must be something else," Hermione insisted. "Maybe you just haven't found it yet."

The boys stared at her in bewilderment. "Everyone thinks we're stupid, even our mums," Goyle said. "They say we're just like our dads."

Hermione looked distressed. "Why would they say that? I mean, they wouldn't have married your dads if there wasn't something about them that they liked."

The boys looked even more confused, and stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. "What are you talking about, Granger?" Crabbe asked. "Liking has nothing to do with getting married."

"I guess a Mudblood like you wouldn't know about that," Goyle said, but he didn't sound particularly hostile. "In pureblood families, marriages are arranged. Our dads might not be smart, but they're old blood and old money--a good catch for a girl from a lower-ranked family. At least, that's what my Grandma says."

"Your parents didn't love each other?" Hermione asked, looking astounded and a little horrified.

"What's love got to do with it?" Crabbe asked, scratching his head.

"You mean someday you'll have to marry some girl your parents choose, whether you like it or not?"

Crabbe and Goyle nodded. "You mean Muggles get to choose who they marry?" Goyle asked. Hermione nodded. "Wow!"

"Nobody'd choose to marry us," Crabbe muttered. "You'd better be glad we're purebloods, Goyle, or we'd be single for the rest of our lives."

"Maybe you'll meet someone special one day," Hermione said hopefully, and the boys stared at her like she'd lost her mind.

"What do you care, anyway?" Crabbe demanded.

"Professor Blackmore said we have to work together," she reminded him. "And the Sorting Hat said all the Houses have to unite."

"Oh, the Sorting Hat," Crabbe scoffed. "Rubbish."

"Anyway, getting back to the project..." Hermione said.

"We're imcompe--incompa--" Goyle stuttered.

"Incompetent?" Hermione suggested helpfully.

"We're hopeless!" Goyle wailed.

"It's not hopeless," Neville said quietly from the doorway. The other three children looked up, wondering how long he had been standing there. "Look," he said, "I'm sorry I snapped at you before."

"Why're you Gryffindors suddenly being so nice to us?" Crabbe asked suspiciously.

"Because I know what it's like to have everyone call me useless and incompetent," Neville replied solemnly. "You're not the only one who's called me a Squib, you know. And I was pretty hopeless at magic; you've seen me melt cauldrons in Snape's class. But I managed to pass my Potions O.W.L. and get into his advanced class. If I can do that, you can do this project."

"How did you pass, anyway?" Goyle wanted to know.

Neville smiled a little. "It was a lot easier without Professor Snape hovering over me and making me nervous. And now that I know I can do it, he doesn't make me so nervous--well, not as much as before, anyway. And Harry and Hermione helped me a lot, helped me practice my magic. When you keep telling yourself that you can't do it, you're bound to fail. If you start thinking that you can, well...that makes it easier."

"Positive thinking?" Crabbe asked incredulously. _"That's_ your secret?" Neville grinned and nodded. 

"Look, let's try this again," Hermione said. "One step at a time, don't rush it. This rune is pretty easy, it's just like writing a 'Y' lying on its side. There, that's good! And this one's like a 'Y' too, only the middle line extends up through the top so it looks sort of like a tree. Good! And this one--"

"That's too hard!" whined Goyle.

"It's not so hard, if you break it down into steps," Hermione said patiently. "First, draw a circle. Good. Then draw another one, overlapping just a little on top of the first circle. Good..."

*** 

"Our presentation's due on Friday," Draco said. "Is everything ready, Potter?"

Harry looked down at the circle Draco had inscribed on the workroom floor. "Protective circle looks good. I've got the material components: incense, feathers from Hedwig, primrose, vervain, and yarrow. And I've got our gift for the elemental." He held up a brightly colored pinwheel, blew on it gently, and watched the wheel spin around in a blur of color.

"A child's toy," Draco sneered.

"Our textbook says that air elementals--at least the little ones--like toys," Harry said calmly. "Things that you can play with in the wind, like pinwheels or kites."

Draco scowled. "A proper sorcerer wouldn't bother with gifts; he'd just command the elemental to do what he wanted."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe so, but this is the way Blackmore said to do it. If you don't like it, go argue with her."

Of course Draco was not about to do that. "And what about the incantation?" he snapped.

"I've got it here," Ron said, holding up a piece of parchment.

"Have you practiced it?" Draco demanded. "I want to make sure you're not going to summon up a demon by mistake," he said sarcastically.

"Um...let's see. Aeris elementum ap...appella...no, um, appello..."

Draco groaned. "We're never going to summon anything at this rate! Potter, you do it!" Harry took the paper and began reciting the spell, also stumbling over the words.

"Do I have to do everything myself?" Draco complained. "Give it here!" He snatched the parchment out of Harry's hands, and recited the spell perfectly. Harry winked at Ron while Draco was staring down at the paper.

"That's great, Draco," Harry said innocently. "I guess you should read the incantation."

"Guess I'll have to," Draco growled, staring at Harry suspiciously.

"Ron and I will help with the circle, then," Harry said. "It's only fair."

"Damn right," Draco snapped, but he seemed a little confused. "I can't wait for this project to be over!"

"Me neither!" Ron said fervently, and Harry nodded.

*** 

Theodore Nott's group summoned their elemental without a hitch. Parvati Patil's group had a little trouble when the elemental nearly broke free of their control when Lavender stumbled a little over her words while reciting the incantation. The elemental hurled itself against the invisible barrier of the protective circle, but Millicent shouted out a repelling spell, one Lupin had taught them, and the elemental retreated meekly back to the center of the circle, giving Lavender time to recover.

"You were a little careless there, Miss Brown," Blackmore said after they were done. "But that was quick thinking on your part, Miss Bulstrode. Good recovery, good teamwork. Full marks to your group." The four girls beamed at each other, and Blackmore smiled just a little.

Hermione's group worked together, all four of them inscribing the runes in the protective circle, Goyle, Crabbe, and Neville working very slowly and laboriously. And they recited the spell together, each of them saying one word in turn. Goyle and Crabbe had their spell words written down on flash cards (Hermione's suggestion), one word to each card, and they cast aside the cards once they had finishing reciting their word.

"Aeris," said Crabbe.

"Elementum," said Goyle, pronouncing the word very carefully.

"Aquilo," Neville said.

"Animus," Hermione said.

"Invito," Crabbe said, starting the cycle again. They continued in this manner until the elemental appeared. It took the form of a nearly transparent, fairy-like little woman with wings growing out of her back. Hermione offered it their gift, a peacock tailfeather she had found at the zoo and kept as a souvenir. The elemental admired the brightly-colored feather and accepted it. She then sent it out on its "mission"; Blackmore had told them that air elementals were used mostly to carry messages or gather information. Hermione whispered something to the elemental, who nodded and flew off. She returned a couple of minutes later, perched on Hermione's shoulder, whispering something into her ear, then vanished.

Hermione grinned. "I sent her on a scouting mission to find out what's for dinner tonight. She says it's roast chicken with mashed potatoes and peas, and pumpkin pie with whipped cream for dessert."

"Well, that's very useful to know," Draco muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Apparently Blackmore's hearing was very good. "It was just an example, Mr. Malfoy," she said in a sharp voice. "In time of war, for instance, an air elemental could be used to spy on the enemy camp. But there is no war at Hogwarts, now is there?" The Gryffindors and Slytherins eyed each other uneasily. 

"No, ma'am," Draco mumbled.

Blackmore turned back to Hermione's group. "Very good, all of you! I'm especially impressed by how well you all worked together. Full marks."

Goyle and Crabbe beamed at each other; they had never before gotten full marks on any assignment during their entire time at Hogwarts. Draco scowled, but they didn't seem to notice.

"All right, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy. It's your turn."

Bane glared at them balefully from his perch on Blackmore's shoulder; he still had not forgiven them for his little "accident". The boys tried to ignore him as they prepared the spell: Harry set up a small brazier in the center of the room, burning incense, feathers, and herbs, and then the three boys inscribed the protective circle and runes on the floor around it. Finally, Draco recited the incantation, and a little whirlwind rose up out of brazier, forming itself into a birdlike form. It flew to the edge of the circle and hovered there, waiting.

"Will you accept this gift in exchange for a favor?" Harry asked nervously, holding up the pinwheel. The air-bird looked at it curiously, flapping its wings and sending out a little gust of wind that ruffled Harry's hair and made the pinwheel spin. The elemental looked delighted and nodded eagerly. "Then please take this message to Professor Lupin: Harry Potter sends his greetings, and asks if you will attend the Quidditch match this weekend."

The elemental flew off and returned shortly; it opened its beak and Professor Lupin's cheerful voice came out of it: "Greetings, Harry! Congratulations on successfully completing your project! I'll definitely be at the match to cheer your team on--and Draco's too, of course; as a teacher, I can't play favorites." The elemental took the pinwheel from Harry's hand and vanished.

Draco, Harry, and Ron all frowned at Lupin's words, but Blackmore smiled and said, "Well done! Full marks to your group." Then she turned to address the entire class, "I'm very pleased with all of you for working so well together. So you see, it's not impossible for your two Houses to cooperate with each other." The class scowled at her, and to their amazement, she laughed merrily. "Forty points to Gryffindor, and forty to Slytherin. As for homework..." The class groaned, and she grinned at them. "Since you did so well on this project, as a reward I won't assign any homework this weekend. Enjoy the Quidditch match tomorrow. Class dismissed."

The students stared at each other in disbelief, hardly believing their good luck. They practically ran out of the classroom before she could change her mind. Out of habit, Pansy, Millicent, Parvati, and Lavender left together, as if forgetting that they were no longer working together.

"You're going to the match tomorrow, right?" Pansy asked.

"Of course!" Parvati replied. "I'd never miss a chance to see Dylan play!"

"He's sooo handsome in that green uniform," sighed Lavender.

"But who are you going to cheer for, Slytherin or Gryffindor?" Millicent asked.

Parvati and Lavender frowned slightly. "We'll have to cheer for both, I guess," Lavender said.

"Not for Slytherin," Parvati corrected. "Just for Dylan."

"It's the same thing!" Pansy said.

"Not really..."

Draco scowled at the girls as they walked down the corridor, completely absorbed in their conversation. "Women!" he said in a disgusted tone.

"Look on the bright side, Draco," Theodore said. "The Gryffindor girls will be cheering our team on over their own--bet Potter and company won't like that!"

"Cheering Dylan on," Draco corrected sullenly, but then he smiled a little. "Heh, but you're right, the Gryffindor boys won't like that! Hmm...that gives me an idea. Come on, I've got to send my owl out to Hogsmeade..."

*** 

The next day, when Dylan came down to the Great Hall for breakfast, several girls from various Houses came up to him and said, "We'll be cheering you on today, Dylan!" They each held up a rose with green and silver ribbons tied around it in a jaunty bow. One girl, a pretty dark-haired Hufflepuff in his year group, said, "Good luck!" then kissed him on the cheek and ran away before he had time to react. The other girls squealed and shrieked in outrage, running after her. One Ravenclaw girl ran back and kissed him on the other cheek, saying, "For good luck," then blushed furiously and ran after the others.

"You can kiss me for luck, too!" Damien called after them, but they ignored him. "Come on, Romeo," he said, grabbing Dylan's arm and leading his slightly-stunned friend to the Slytherin table. "We'd better find our seats before you get trampled by a horde of over-enthusiastic fans." As they made their way through the hall, they noticed Pansy, Millicent, and a couple of other Slytherin girls carrying baskets filled with the beribboned roses, walking down the aisles and passing them out to practically every girl in the school.

"What's going on?" Dylan asked Draco, who was sitting at the Slytherin table, looking very smug.

"I'm organizing your fan club, Rosier," Draco said cheerfully. "No need to thank me."

"My WHAT?!"

Draco sighed. "You're the most popular boy in school, Rosier, there's no fighting it. So I decided I might as well put your popularity to good use. Actually, it was Nott's idea..."

Dylan glared at Theodore, who frantically mouthed behind Draco's back, "It wasn't my idea!"

"You see," Draco continued, "we overheard Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown saying they would cheer you on in today's match even though they're Gryffindors. And Nott said that would really tick off Potter and his crew. So I thought, why not build on that, get all the girls to cheer for you, and really unnerve the Gryffindor team? So I sent my owl to Hogsmeade and put in a rush order for these flowers."

"B-but it must have cost a lot," Dylan protested.

Draco flapped his hand in a dismissive gesture. "A mere drop in the bucket, Rosier. I assure you it doesn't put the slightest dent in the Malfoy bank account. And anything that helps us win a game is worth it. Smile nice for your fans, now, Rosier." Another group of girls walked by on their way to their tables, waving their roses at Dylan. "Aren't I a genius, Rosier?"

"Positively brilliant," Dylan said weakly. 

"Would you like a rose?" Pansy asked as she worked her way down the Gryffindor table. "Please cheer our Chaser on."

"Roses for Rosier!" Parvati said delightedly. "How clever! How romantic!"

Lavender sniffed her rose. "They smell so pretty!"

"Can a smell be 'pretty'?" Seamus asked sarcastically.

"Of course," she replied, unperturbed.

"Get those things out of here!" Ron shouted. "This is the Gryffindor table! Go peddle your stupid flowers at Slytherin!"

"I want a rose!" shouted a Gryffindor girl.

"Me too!" shouted another.

"Inter-House cooperation," Pansy said smugly as she continued to hand out flowers. "There's nothing wrong with cheering on a friend, no matter what House he's in. I'm sure that's what Professors Blackmore and Lupin would say."

Ron clenched his fists and rose to his feet. "Why you--"

Millicent immediately stepped in front of her friend. "Go ahead, try it, Weasley," she said in a threatening tone. "Hit a girl, show everybody what a big man you are. But this girl hits back." Millicent was tall and what might charitably be called "solidly built".

"Give it up, Weasley," Seamus whispered. "She's got bigger muscles than you."

Ron blushed, and Pansy and Millicent glared at Seamus--and oddly enough, so did Parvati and Lavender.

Hermione said, "Don't be an idiot, Ron! If you start a fight, you won't be allowed to play today, and then what will happen to the Gryffindor team?"

Ron scowled and dropped back into his seat. "Like a rose, Granger?" Pansy asked, holding one out to her. Hermione hesitated, her gaze flickering over to Dylan for a moment.

"You're not going to take one of those, are you?!" Ron howled.

"I...well...I suppose I shouldn't," Hermione said uncertainly. "I mean, it's nothing against Dylan, but..."

Pansy dropped the rose on the table in front of her. "Well, I'll leave this here in case you change your mind."

"Want one, Ginny?" Millicent asked with a sly grin. She'd heard the story about how Ginny's boyfriend was insanely jealous of her working with Dylan.

"I'm a Chaser for Gryffindor," Ginny replied coldly. "I haven't got time to be waving a flower around for--"

"You'd damn well better not take one of those!" Dean snapped.

"Excuse me?" Ginny asked him, in an even frostier voice. "Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do?"

"Your boyfriend!" Dean said.

"My boyfriend, not my master, and not for much longer if you keep this up," Ginny retorted. 

"Keep what up?" demanded Dean.

Ginny ignored him and reached over and snatched a rose out of Millicent's basket. "Thank you very much," she said coolly. "I can't hold this while I'm flying on a broomstick; I don't suppose you have a pin or something I could borrow?" Millicent grinned, reached into her pocket, and handed Ginny a safety pin. "Thank you," Ginny said, pinning the rose to the front of her robe.

Dean spluttered with rage, and Ron turned to Harry saying, "You're not going to let her wear that are you? You're the team Captain--do something!"

Harry was sitting there with his mouth hanging open, too stunned to respond. Ginny was staring at him with a defiant look, almost daring him to try and tell her what to do. Harry wondered when shy little Ginny Weasley had become so tough and formidable. "Um," Harry said hesitantly, "I'm not sure it's really appropriate for a Gryffindor team member to wear Slytherin colors..."

"A stupid rose and a piece of ribbon aren't going to affect how I play, Harry," Ginny snapped. 

"Well, of course not," Harry said in a placating tone. "But it might affect team morale..."

"Then maybe the team should concentrate more on playing than on what I'm wearing!" she retorted.

While Harry was trying to decide how to respond, Dumbledore said from the head table, "All right, everyone please take your seats!" Pansy and Millicent hurried back to their own table, but they had already passed out most of their roses. "Today of course is the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Good luck to both teams!" He raised his glass in salute, and the students and faculty did likewise. 

As they started breakfast, Ron said accusingly to Parvati and Lavender, "You're a couple of traitors, cheering for Slytherin!"

"We're not cheering for Slytherin," Parvati said, giving him a disdainful look. "We're cheering for Dylan."

"It's the same thing!"

"No, it's not," Lavender retorted. "We're cheering for Gryffindor, too," she said, holding up a red and gold Gryffindor pennant. "But there's nothing wrong with supporting a friend, even if he's in a different House."

"He's not your friend!" Ron said, growing angrier by the minute. "He's just some boy you drool over!"

"Stop it!" Hermione said. "This is exactly what Malfoy wants, Ron--he wants you to get flustered and lose your cool on the Quidditch field, just like he did last year with that song. Just ignore him!"

"You hear that?" Ron demanded. "You're helping Malfoy with his little plot!"

"You're the one who's helping him," Parvati said scornfully. "Getting all upset over a little flower." She sniffed at her rose.

"Whether or not we carry a rose shouldn't make any difference in how you play," Lavender pointed out. "A rose doesn't catch the Quaffle or chase after a Snitch, after all."

"But...but..."

"Stop it, Ron," Harry said, laying a hand on his friend's arm. "I don't like it either, but Hermione's right. Malfoy's trying to get to us." He jerked his head over towards the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was watching the argument at Gryffindor table with great relish. "If you let him get to you, he's won. Save your energy for the game; then we'll show those Slytherins that we don't need dirty tricks to win!"

Ron nodded, looking very determined. "Yeah, we'll show those slimy gits! How great is your precious Dylan, if he has to resort to cheating to win?"

"Handing out roses isn't cheating," Parvati said indignantly.

"I'm sure it was Malfoy's idea, not Dylan's," Hermione added, and Ron glared at her.

"You boys are all so jealous of Dylan," Lavender sighed.

"I am _not/i > jealous!"_

_"Save it for the game, Ron!" Harry pleaded. He glared at Malfoy, who was snickering with his cronies, but he had to admit that Dylan looked more mortified than smug._

_Meanwhile, at the head table, Lupin asked, "Did you know about this, Severus?"_

_Snape was staring at the sea of roses and ribbons with a bemused look on his face. "No, I didn't," he replied, too distracted to remember to be rude to Lupin._

_"Mr. Malfoy is quite...creative...it seems," Blackmore said with an amused smile. "That's a stunt worthy of Dylan's father, actually."_

_"Yes, and there was the 'Weasley Is Our King' stunt last year," Snape mused._

_"Draco seems suited for a career in advertising or publicity," Lupin laughed._

_"I seriously doubt it," Hagrid muttered darkly. "He'll turn out like his father, mark my words."_

_"It's our job to make sure that doesn't happen," Lupin said gently, as Snape glared at Hagrid, who gave Lupin a skeptical look._

__

*** 

The two teams took their places on the Pitch; a number of roses and green and silver ribbons could be seen waving from all sections of the stands. Lavender and Parvati, like many of the other Gryffindor girls, waved a rose in one hand and a Gryffindor pennant in the other, although the boys were glaring at them. Hermione waved only a red and gold pennant, but tucked out of sight in the inside pocket of her robe was the rose that Pansy had left on the table.

She had started to leave it behind after breakfast, knowing that it would only upset Ron and Harry if she took it, thus playing into Malfoy's hands, but something made her go back after the boys went to get ready for the game. She tucked the rose into her pocket, telling herself that there was no harm done as long as nobody knew about it. She still wanted Gryffindor to win, of course, but she silently cheered--while Parvati and the other girls cheered openly and loudly--every time Dylan made a pass or scored a goal, although she felt a bit guilty about it. But she also loudly cheered on Ron and Ginny and the other Gryffindor players.

The Gryffindors were playing with energy and a kind of grim determination; Dylan was afraid that Draco's little stunt might have had the opposite effect of what was intended, making them play better rather than worse. He was a little surprised to see that Ginny was still wearing the rose and ribbons pinned to the front of her uniform, though.

It had not escaped Damien's notice either. Ginny had the Quaffle, and was about to try and toss it through one of the Slytherin rings, when Damien flew by overhead and shouted, "Nice rose, Ginny!"

Startled and a little flustered, Ginny fumbled the throw, and the Quaffle fell far short of the goal. Dylan saw his chance and immediately swooped down and grabbed it. He passed it to Damien just as the other two Gryffindor Chasers caught up to him.

"You Slytherins fight dirty!" one shouted.

"All's fair in love and Quidditch," Dylan retorted, then dropped down low as a Bludger shot by over his head. The Gryffindor Chasers had to pull up short to avoid being hit by their own Bludger. Dylan laughed and flew on ahead in time to see Damien manage to get the Quaffle past the Gryffindor Keeper and score a goal.

"Yes!" Damien shouted, pumping his fist in the air, thrilled to score a goal early in his very first game. Weasley looked furious, and Dylan grinned; revenge was sweet. He felt a little guilty about Damien using the rose to fluster Ginny (though not guilty enough to not take advantage of her mistake), but he felt only satisfaction about scoring a goal against her brother, who had bad-mouthed Dylan ever since his first day at Hogwarts.

*** 

Up in the stands, the Donners watched from the Slytherin section. Pansy Parkinson, recognizing Ariane, had given her and Goewin two of the leftover roses. The normally dignified Ariane waved her rose and shouted with uncharacteristic abandon, "Go Dylan! That's my boy!" Math smiled at her indulgently. Ariane turned to Goewin and said, "Look at all the roses! I knew Dylan would be a heartbreaker!"

Goewin smiled wanly and said, "I just hope it doesn't go to his head."

"Are you all right, Goewin?" Ariane asked, giving her young aunt a look of concern. "You're looking a little pale.

Math frowned. "Yes, my dear, you don't look good. You didn't have much appetite at breakfast this morning, and you haven't been sleeping well lately."

"I've been having bad dreams," Goewin said. "Not surprising, considering that the Death Eaters are on the loose. And I was feeling a bit nauseous this morning; I think I might be coming down with the flu."

"Maybe you should go to the hospital wing and lie down," Math said, looking worried.

"No, dear, I'm fine," Goewin insisted. "I don't want to miss Dylan's game. I'll go see Madam Pomfrey and ask her for a tonic after the game is over."

"Well, if you're sure you'll be all right," Math said, not looking quite convinced.

"I'll be fine. Oh look, Dylan has the ball!"

"The Quaffle, Goewin," Ariane corrected. "Get away from my boy, you Gryffindor brute!"

"He deliberately hit Dylan!" Goewin said indignantly as one of the Gryffindor Chasers collided with Dylan.

"Foul!" Madam Hooch called.

Math smiled. His wife had some color back in her cheeks and appeared to be feeling better, so he set aside his worries and turned his attention back to the game.

*** 

The game was a heated and very close one. Gryffindor and Slytherin were dead even in points, and both sides had each had a foul called against them, both for jostling a player on the other team. Meanwhile, Malfoy and Potter were both circling the Pitch, looking for the Golden Snitch.

Finally, as Dylan had the Quaffle and was heading towards the Gryffindor goals, the Snitch came into view and Potter and Malfoy were racing furiously to catch it. To Dylan's surprise, he saw the Snitch heading straight towards him, and he was faced with a serious dilemma. He could catch the Snitch, but since he was not the Seeker, it would be considered a snitchnip, a foul, and wouldn't count. On the other hand, Potter had pulled a few feet ahead of Malfoy, and Gryffindor would probably win if he did nothing. He had a split second in which to make a decision, and he acted almost without thinking.

"Draco!" he shouted. "Pull up!" And he hurled the Quaffle right at the Snitch. It knocked the Snitch astray, just as Potter was reaching out to grab it. It shot straight up into the air, and Draco shot up after it before a startled Potter could recover, and reached out and grabbed hold of the Snitch.

The stands burst into pandemonium. The Slytherins were cheering wildly, while the Gryffindors were shouting, "Foul!" Madam Hooch, the referee, was scratching her head and consulting the rule book. Meanwhile, the Slytherins weren't waiting for an official ruling, and were pouring out of the stands onto the Quidditch Pitch. The Slytherin team landed, Draco holding the Snitch up triumphantly.

"Great play, Dy--" Damien started to shout.

"Yes, great play, Draco!" Dylan said loudly, clapping Malfoy on the back. "Great catch, you won the game!" He knew that Draco would be jealous if he took the credit for winning the game. He didn't mind giving it to Draco; it was enough for Dylan to know that he had helped to win the game--he didn't need any accolades. Of course, assuming that Hooch didn't rule it a foul...

The Slytherin spectators mobbed the team and lifted Draco and Dylan up on their shoulders, cheering loudly. Draco grinned at Dylan ecstatically, for once not minding sharing the glory with someone else, and Dylan grinned back in relief.

"You and me, Rosier!" Draco shouted, just barely able to make himself heard over the roar of the crowd. "We make a great team!"

*** 

Up in the stands, Snape's jaw dropped open as Dylan all but knocked the Snitch out of Potter's hands and into Draco's. "YES!" he shouted. "Finally!" He was so ecstatic that he almost forgot himself and hugged Lupin. But he had to hug someone or burst, so he hugged a startled Branwen, who laughed and hugged him back. To hell with his Death Eater image; he could always plead temporary insanity later. In fact, Flitwick and Hagrid were staring at him as if he had lost his mind. Dumbledore was smiling at him, though, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Congratulations, Severus," Branwen laughed. For the benefit of the witnesses around them, Snape hastily let her go, as if recoiling in horror as he came to his senses.

"Yes, er, thank you," he mumbled, feigning embarrassment. But a huge grin quickly spread across his face again.

"Congratulations, Severus," Lupin said quietly, smiling at him just a little. But there was an unspoken promise in his eyes of a private celebration later, just the two of them...

"Well, I must admit, you concede defeat gracefully for a Gryffindor, Lupin," Snape said in his best snotty voice, and Lupin just smiled pleasantly, as he always did when Snape publicly insulted him. Then Snape turned to McGonagall and said, "You owe me ten Galleons, Minerva." He was unable--not that he tried very hard, mind you--to keep from gloating.

McGonagall looked as sour as if she had just bitten into a lemon. "I'll give you your ten Galleons if and when that move is ruled a legal play," she said. "Because it looked to me like a foul."

"There was no foul!" Snape scoffed. "You Gryffindors are just sore losers!"

"It was a snitchnip!" McGonagall insisted. "And look who's talking about sore losers! It wasn't my Beater who threw a Bludger into the other team's Seeker after the game was already over last year!"

"A snitchnip is when a PLAYER other than the Seeker touches the Snitch!" Snape retorted. "Dylan didn't touch the Snitch!"

"He touched it with the Quaffle!"

"The rule book doesn't say anything about the Quaffle touching the Snitch being a foul!"

"We'll see about that!"

"And by the way, it wasn't my Beaters who beat the other team's Seeker to a pulp last year!"

"It was only a few bruises! And besides--"

Lupin was laughing out loud, and Branwen said sternly, "Stop it, both of you! You're worse than the children!" The two Heads of House fell silent, McGonagall looking sheepish and Snape looking sullen. 

"Why don't we go and check with the referee?" Lupin suggested cheerfully.

So the teachers trooped down to the field to talk to Madam Hooch. She looked up as they approached and said, "Well, the rule book says that no player other than the Seeker may touch the Snitch, but it says nothing about hitting the Snitch with another object. It may very well be that the rules will be changed in the future to clarify this point, but in this case, I must rule that the play was legal and award the victory to Slytherin!"

The Slytherins cheered again, this time lifting all the team members--it took several students each to lift Crabbe's and Goyle's bulky forms, but they did it--and marched up and down the field. The Slytherin girls waved their roses in the air; from the stands, the girls in the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sections waved back. The Gryffindor girls were too stunned to react, and not quite sure whether to be happy or upset. They liked Dylan, but they had not really expected Slytherin to win. 

When the Slytherin spectators finally finished their victory march and set the team back on the ground, they were all greeted by the very rare (in fact, never before seen) spectacle of Snape grinning from ear to ear at them. "Good work!" he said. "Brilliant play, both of you!" He clapped one hand on Dylan's and one hand on Draco's shoulders. "Keep it up, and the Cup is ours for sure this year!"

"Yes, sir!" the boys chorused, beaming up at their teacher happily. 

"Draco!" Narcissa Malfoy shouted, waving at her son.

"Mum!" Draco ran over to greet her. "Did you see me catch the Snitch?"

"Yes, I did, my sweet! You were wonderful!" She hugged him tightly and covered his face with kisses.

"Aw, Mum, don't embarrass me in front of everyone!" Draco protested, squirming in her grasp, but he sounded pleased. "I'm so happy--I just wish Dad had been here to see it." His expression fell a little; his moment of triumph, and his father was not here to witness it.

"He will," Narcissa said, looking very pleased with herself as she held up a golden sphere set with a band of small gemstones around the middle; it just barely fit in the palm of her hand. "It's the latest thing; it can record events and play them back later. See?" She touched one of the stones, and suddenly an image of Draco racing towards the Snitch appeared in the air in front of them. "So your father will be able to see it...when his name is cleared and he is able to return home," she added hastily, remembering that they were in public.

"Thank you, Mum!" Draco hugged his mother and kissed her, no longer worried about what his classmates thought.

Meanwhile, Sirius was consoling Harry, and the Weasleys were trying to comfort Ron and Ginny. 

"I'm sorry you had to come see me lose, Sirius," Harry said glumly.

"Hey, don't talk like that! It was a good game, Harry, you did your best. No one could have predicted that kid throwing the Quaffle at the Snitch."

"It should've been ruled a foul!" Fred said angrily.

"Now, now," Molly chided gently. "Madam Hooch said it was legal. You kids played your best; that's what counts. Nobody can win all the time."

"Yeah, but to lose to Slytherin!" Ron said, looking even more depressed than Harry. "Malfoy's never gonna let us hear the end of this!"

Back near the Slytherin section of the stands, Dylan was joyfully greeting his family; he had no qualms about letting his mother hug and kiss him.

"You were wonderful, Dylan!" Ariane said, with tears in her eyes. "Your father would be so proud!"

"Thank you, Mother," Dylan said, getting a little teary himself. He kissed her on the cheek. "That makes me happy. Dad played Quidditch too, didn't he?"

"Yes, he was a Chaser, just like you!" Ariane hugged and kissed him again. "You look so much like Evan in that uniform!"

"Come now, dear," Math joked gently. "Let the rest of us have a turn, too."

Ariane laughed, brushing tears from her eyes, and released Dylan. Math hugged Dylan, saying, "You did very well indeed today, child. That was quick thinking. Congratulations."

Then Goewin stepped up to hug and kiss him. "Congratulations, dear."

"Are you okay, Aunt Goewin?" Dylan asked anxiously. "You look a little pale."

"I'm fine, dear," she replied. "I'm just a little tired--oh!" She staggered, clutching at Dylan's shoulder to keep her balance.

"Aunt Goewin!" Dylan cried, putting his arms around her to keep her from falling.

"I'm a little dizzy," she said faintly.

"The hospital wing," Math said firmly. "Now!"

Professor Snape hurried over. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know; she almost fainted," Math replied. "Help me take her to the hospital wing, please."  "Of course," Snape said. "Should I conjure a stretcher?"

"No!" Goewin snapped. "Don't make a scene! I'm just feeling faint because I skipped breakfast, most likely."   Supporting Goewin between them, Snape and Math took Goewin to the castle while Ariane and Dylan followed anxiously. Branwen and Lupin quietly slipped away from the crowd and headed to the castle in a different direction. Sirius frowned as he watched them.

"Listen, Harry," he said, "I'd better make sure Goewin's all right. I'll meet up with you later, okay? The Headmaster said it was all right for me to take you out to dinner tonight."

"Okay, Sirius," Harry replied. He felt a little abandoned when Sirius said he was going to leave to check on Dylan's great-aunt, even though he knew that she was a member of the Order, but he felt better knowing that he was going to be able to have dinner with Sirius later tonight.

*** 

"Is she all right?" Math asked, for about the tenth time, as Madam Pomfrey completed her examination.

"She's fine," Pomfrey said, with a rather odd and knowing little smile. "But make sure she gets something to eat."

"I told you it was just the flu," Goewin said. "My, all this fuss over nothing!"

"Oh, you don't have the flu, dear," Pomfrey said, looking very amused. "Severus, perhaps you could make an anti-nausea tonic for Goewin? I don't normally keep such things on hand, since the students are not likely to be suffering from morning sickness."

"MORNING SICKNESS?!" chorused the assembled crowd of wizards.

Pomfrey grinned. "Yes, morning sickness. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Donner. You're going to have a baby."

"B-but," Goewin stammered, "I thought...we couldn't...we've been married for twenty years, and there have been no children..."

"Sometimes these things take time," Pomfrey said, still grinning.

Math stood there looking stunned for a moment, then a rather dazed grin spread across his face. "Oh my! I'm going to be a father...and at my age!" He hugged his wife, who was laughing and crying at the same time.

"I'm going to be an uncle?" exclaimed Dylan excitedly. "Or a cousin? Or...something!"

"Congratulations, Goewin," Ariane said with a smile, but her eyes looked a little worried.

Goewin noticed. She patted her niece on the hand, and said, "Don't worry, Ariane. Dylan will still be my co-heir, along with my son or daughter."

"A daughter!" Sirius exclaimed, turning to Pomfrey. "Can you tell if it will be a boy or a girl?"

"Well, there is a spell I can cast to determine the sex of the baby," Pomfrey said, sounding a little confused by the intensity of Sirius's question. "If the parents wish."

"I'd kind of like to be surprised," Goewin smiled.

"Please, Goewin!" Sirius said. "It's important."

"Very well," she acquiesced, looking bewildered.

Madam Pomfrey took out her wand, recited a brief incantation, and smiled. "You'll have a little girl in about eight months, dear."

Sirius pulled a small brocade bag from his pocket and handed it to Goewin. "I think this is for you," he said solemnly. 

"What is it?" Goewin asked in a puzzled voice.

"A good-luck charm for safe childbearing," Sirius said, "given to me by Miyako Kamiyama. Professor Kamiyama's granddaughter. The one who is a Seer."

"The child she prophesied about!" Snape exclaimed. "You think it's Goewin's!"

"A child who can turn the tide of the war," Lupin said slowly. "A girl child."

"But...how can you be sure it's mine?" Goewin asked.

Math's face grew very serious. "You said you've been having bad dreams lately."

"Well, yes, but what does that have to do with--?"

"Dreams about the Death Eaters? About Voldemort?"

"Yes," Goewin whispered. "Dreams of blood and battles. I see Dylan and the other children fighting alongside the Order and the Death Eaters...but I thought they were only nightmares."

"Prophetic dreams," Snape said quietly.

"No! They can't be! An Oracle loses her power when she loses her virginity!"

"They are not your visions, Goewin," Branwen said quietly. "They are your daughter's. This is why the child is so important. She has your gift, dear; she has the Sight."

Goewin's face turned white. "Then my baby--our baby--is in danger!" She reached out and clasped Math's hand tightly.

"Not just from the Dark Lord, although he is the most serious risk," Snape said grimly. "But if Gwydion learns you will have a daughter who might challenge his right to inherit the Donner title..." And Gwydion was now a Death Eater; what little morality he'd had to begin with was being steadily chipped away by the Dark Lord. Snape did not think he would hesitate to kill Goewin or her child if he believed they would challenge him for the succession.

"No one must know that Goewin is pregnant," Branwen declared. "Poppy, we must swear you to secrecy."

"I swear it, on my life," Madam Pomfrey said gravely.

Thinking fast, Snape said, "Goewin had the flu, as she said. Hunger and illness, the excitement and the press of the crowd, all combined to cause her to faint on the Pitch today. But it's nothing serious. You gave her a tonic, told her to get some rest, and sent her on her way. That is the story we will put out." Pomfrey nodded. "Goewin must stay on the estate from now on," Snape continued. "I don't think she should leave, not even to attend meetings."

"I will guard her closely," Math said, looking fierce and protective. Goewin looked unhappy, but did not object.

"We can communicate through the mirrors, or one of us can Apparate to the estate if we need to convey a message in person. Branwen or Lupin, I think; I shouldn't risk being seen on the estate unless Dylan is there. I'd have no good excuse to be there otherwise. Or..." He hesitated, looking at Ariane.

"I can be your representative to the Order, Uncle," she said quietly. "If you will trust me. I have only hatred for the Dark Lord, now that he has risked my son's life to steal the treasure of the Rosier house and awaken the blood-drinking roses."

Math said, "I trust you, Ariane, but I will have to clear it with Albus first." Ariane nodded. "We'll go back home as soon as I talk to him; he needs to know about all this."

"I'll send a message to the Headmaster," Snape said, "and I'll brew the tonic for you. It should be done by the time you're ready to leave. Meanwhile, the rest of you--don't leave her side for a moment."

Math, Branwen, Lupin, Sirius, Pomfrey, Ariane, and Dylan all nodded, looking grim and determined. "My wand!" Dylan exclaimed, looking chagrined. "I don't have it! We're not allowed to carry one during a game!"

Snape smiled a little. "I think six experienced wizards should be enough to protect your aunt for now, Dylan. Why don't you come and help me with the tonic? You can pick up your wand on the way."

"Go ahead, dear, I'll be fine," Goewin assured him.

Dylan kissed her on the cheek and said fiercely, "I won't let anyone hurt you or your baby, I promise!" His family and Snape looked as though they weren't sure whether to be amused or worried by his declaration. Snape and Ariane exchanged a look; worried, definitely. He already bore the Dark Mark on his arm in an effort to protect his mother.

"Come along, Dylan," Snape said gruffly, and the boy obediently followed him out of the room.

"It will be all right, Ariane," Lupin said gently. "Severus will watch over him." _We both will,_ he silently promised.

Ariane seemed to understand his unspoken message. She raised her eyebrows slightly, then smiled. So...it seemed that Lupin did return Snape's affections after all. "Thank you, Remus."

Branwen saw that brief exchange and smiled indulgently; Ariane and Lupin both blushed a little. They had both found their lovers while working on her class project, after all.

"I'm sorry, Professor Blackmore," Ariane said in a small voice, sounding like a chastened student. "We should have listened to you, Evan and I. I...I'm sorry." An apology seemed inadequate, since the Lord she and Evan had served had nearly killed Blackmore all those years ago, but her old Professor just smiled affectionately at her.

"I forgive you, Ariane," Branwen said softly. "As I forgave Evan. You made mistakes, but you are working to atone for those now. We have all of us done things we regret in the past." Lupin and Sirius flushed; Pomfrey and Math looked thoughtful. Branwen wasn't sure what Poppy's regrets might be, but anyone who had lived through the first war was bound to have some. "And you have raised a brave, intelligent, and loving son."

Ariane began to weep quietly, and Branwen gently put her arms around her, comforting her like a mother; Ariane had not felt a mother's embrace since the day she had graduated from Hogwarts and openly taken Evan as her lover. Her mother had disowned her that very day. "I loved him, too, child," Branwen said softly. The other wizards politely averted their eyes. Ariane knew that Professor Blackmore assumed she was weeping for Evan, and she was, but she was also weeping for the loss of her mother and brothers, which somehow seemed even more irrevocable than Evan's.

*** 

The Slytherin team was the talk of the school; for the first time in years, Slytherin had a chance to bask in glory. Nearly the entire school was still marveling at the unorthodox play that had won them the game, and it was a hot topic of debate whether the play should've been considered a foul and whether there would be an official rules change to prevent such a thing from happening in the future. The boys were divided almost equally down the middle as to whether the play was brilliant or a foul; the girls, of course, almost universally thought it was brilliant.

Even the Gryffindor girls, while they were sad that their team had lost, still congratulated Dylan later and told him how well he had played. He gave them his most charming smile and thanked them for supporting him, and they responded with sighs and blushes and giggles, feeling adequately compensated for Gryffindor's loss. Ginny, of course, was one of the few girls who was not moved by Dylan's flirting, but she grudgingly conceded that Slytherin had played (mostly) fair--for a change--and that they had earned their victory. She even told her male teammates to shut up after getting tired of hearing them rant for several days about how the play should have been ruled a foul.

"Oh, stuff it!" Ginny snapped. "The ruling could have gone either way; it went against us, no point in crying over spilled milk. Besides, if I'd been in Dylan's position, I'd probably have done the same thing." 

This resulted in arguments with both Ron and Dean for "taking Rosier's side". Ron, with a little pressure from Hermione, made up with his sister soon afterwards; it helped that Hermione assured him that Ginny had not the slightest romantic interest in Dylan and had only worn the rose at the game to prove to Dean that he couldn't tell her what to do. 

Ginny did not make up with Dean, however, and in fact broke up with him for being "too possessive". And while she didn't hold a grudge against Dylan, she did give Damien the cold shoulder for about a week; she was not happy about how he had caused her to fumble the Quaffle. But it wasn't really in her nature to hold a grudge for long, and she was more mad at herself than him, anyway, for allowing herself to get flustered, and returned to regarding him with amusement, if not quite friendliness.

"You know, he is kind of cute," Lavender said thoughtfully. "Not as cute as Dylan, of course, but you could do worse. You're single now, and you said he was flirting with you during the project--"

"I'm not in any hurry to find another boyfriend," Ginny said firmly. She would probably change her mind later, she knew, but right now boys seemed like more trouble than they were worth. She was tired of having to worry about first Michael's and then Dean's hurt pride and sensitive egos. "Besides, he was just flirting for fun, I'm sure. He'd never actually ask a Gryffindor girl out; he's too scared of Draco Malfoy. All the Slytherins are."

"Dylan might be willing to date a girl from another House," Parvati said hopefully. "After all, he was seeing that Ravenclaw girl for awhile, and his mother defied her family to be with his father..."

"Can we please talk about something other than Dylan Rosier?" Ginny groaned.

Other than Ginny, Hermione was one of the few girls who didn't fawn over Dylan, but she did quietly congratulate him when they ran into each other in the library one day.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said, giving her a real smile, not that fake-flirtatious one he used on his throng of admirers, and Hermione found herself blushing. She also saved the rose, pressing the flower between the pages of the thick Potions text Professors Snape and Lupin had given her for Christmas. She didn't mention this to Dylan or anyone else, naturally; in fact, she scolded herself for acting as silly as Lavender or Parvati, but she kept the flower nonetheless.

*** 

Draco and Dylan were hailed as heroes in Slytherin House, not just for winning the game but for beating Gryffindor and Harry Potter. The Slytherins were used to being despised by the other Houses, and they savored a rare chance to outshine Gryffindor. Draco was in such a good mood that he didn't seem to mind sharing the spotlight with Dylan, and his mood improved even further when Dylan stretched the truth a little to make Draco look better.

Dylan and Draco were recounting the Quidditch match for a group of wide-eyed younger students in the common room the evening after the game.

"...And I saw the Snitch coming right towards me," Dylan said.

"How did you know what to do?" A first-year boy asked eagerly. "What made you think to throw the Quaffle at it?"

"Well, I didn't know what to do at first," Dylan replied. "If I grabbed it, that would be a foul. And then..." He hesitated, and then inspiration struck. "Draco saw the Snitch was headed my way and he signaled to me, and then I knew what I had to do. I hurled the Quaffle at the Snitch, knocked it away just as Potter was about to grab it, and Draco soared up and caught it! It couldn't have worked better if we had rehearsed it in advance!"

Draco looked a little surprised to hear this version of events, but didn't dispute it. And he smiled proudly as the children stared at him in awe. "Wow, Draco!" said the same first-year boy. "How did you think of that? How did you know Dylan would understand what you wanted him to do?"

"Oh, Rosier understands how I think," Draco said, grinning and throwing an arm around Dylan's shoulders. "We make a great team!"

Theodore smiled and rolled his eyes a little behind Draco's back, and Dylan winked at him. The Slytherins all loudly praised Draco's quick thinking whether they believed the story or not. Some of the younger ones probably did; the rest knew better, but they also knew that this was how things worked in Slytherin, and didn't concern themselves with petty details like the truth. Besides, the main thing was that Slytherin had won; it didn't really matter--not even to Dylan--who had actually thought up the winning play. Even morose Theodore was unusually cheerful for quite some time after the game.

The victory and the adulation of his House left Draco in an extraordinarily good mood, which was a great relief to his housemates. Rather than venting his anger on them, he was actually being nice, in his slightly high-handed way. He even smiled at Lupin when the DADA Professor congratulated Slytherin on their victory the Monday after the game.

"Thank you, Professor," Draco replied, to the shock of everyone in the room, possibly even Lupin, who looked a bit startled although he recovered quickly. Draco smiled pleasantly, if a bit smugly, still floating in a cloud of euphoria over his victory. 

The Gryffindors looked hurt and a little angry that their favorite teacher (and a Gryffindor himself, to boot) had just complimented their rivals. Lupin noticed, of course, and smiled kindly at Harry and Ron. "Both teams should be congratulated," he said. "It was a very exciting game, right down to the final second. You both played extremely well." The Gryffindors did not look every comforted, though. Lupin didn't give them time to dwell on it, nor did he give the Slytherins a chance to gloat. He began his lesson and kept them working hard enough to have no time to think about Quidditch.

Draco was still in a good mood when their next Hogsmeade weekend came around, and treated all his housemates to a round of butterbeer. He even brought back candy for the ones like Dylan and Theodore, who had to remain at school, and Serafina, who always elected to stay behind. Her normally expressionless face filled with shock as Draco casually dropped a bag of candy in her lap and said, "Here you go, Avery." Draco didn't seem to notice, whistling cheerfully to himself as he continued on to his room. She and the other students in the common room just sat there with their mouths hanging open.

"Okay, who is that impostor, and what has he done with the real Draco Malfoy?" Damien muttered.

Draco also seemed to be going out of his way to be friendly towards Damien and Blaise and a few other lower-ranked students he had ignored up until now. Theodore, remembering Lucius Malfoy's instructions to his son to begin recruiting the less wealthy and influential pureblood children, grew uneasy but there was little he could do about it. At least Blaise, though he had no memory of what had happened on Halloween, was smart enough to remain wary of Draco, although of course he continued to flatter him as all the Slytherins did. Damien seemed both flattered and frightened by Draco's overtures, and Theodore noticed that Dylan watched over his friend almost as closely as Theo himself watched over Blaise. Maybe Dylan had finally discovered what the Death Eaters were really like...

*** 

Draco's good mood lasted until early December, when he got a message from his father. When he checked the mirror, it was filled with a swirling cloud of mist, which meant that his father was trying to contact him. "Dad!" Draco said eagerly. "Dad, are you there?"

The mist cleared and Lucius Malfoy's face appeared in the mirror. "Yes, Draco, I am here."

"Did you talk to Mum? Did she give you the sphere? Did you see my Quidditch match?" Draco asked excitedly.

"I don't have time for that right now, Draco!" Lucius snapped impatiently, and all Draco's excitement and happiness drained away. 

"What do you want, then?" Draco asked, a bit sullenly.

"Your mother wrote to inform you that you are to remain at Hogwarts over the holidays?" Lucius asked.

"Yes, Father," Draco said sulkily. "Why can't I come home?"

"Because it is the Dark Lord's wish," Lucius said, and Draco perked up just a little. "Severus claims to be concerned about his students' safety since there have been recent vigilante attacks on Death Eater family members and sympathizers. Nothing serious yet, just minor vandalism and a few beatings, but it will probably escalate, so he wishes for his Slytherins to remain at Hogwarts where they will be safe. And rather than letting you remain idle, he proposed tutoring you and the other Death Eater offspring in the Dark Arts during the holidays, and our Lord agrees that would be a good idea. He wishes for you to prepare for the time when you will enter his service."

Draco was still upset, but that caught his interest. He was sure Snape could teach them some interesting spells, and it finally seemed that he would soon be joining Dylan as a full-fledged Death Eater. "Will I get to take the Mark soon, Father?"

"Soon," Lucius said with a smile, "but I don't know exactly when. You must be patient, my son."

"Yes, Father." Then Draco realized there was something odd about the way his father had phrased his earlier statement. "Professor Snape 'claims' to be concerned about our safety?" he asked. "Do you think he's lying?"

Lucius smiled approvingly, and Draco felt a little surge of pride as his father said, "Very perceptive, Draco. I don't necessarily think that Severus is lying, but a good Slytherin never completely trusts anyone. Severus, like any Slytherin, has his own agenda, which for the moment, happens to coincide with ours."

"But I thought the Professor was a loyal Death Eater," Draco protested.

"A Malfoy never trusts anyone, Draco!" Lucius said sharply. "That is how we rose to power, and that is why we have kept our power all these years!"

"Are you saying he might betray us?" Draco asked in confusion.

"I'm saying that you should always be prepared for betrayal, not just from Snape, but from anyone," Lucius said impatiently. "And be prepared to betray them in turn, if you must. I believe that Severus fears us, and the Dark Lord, too much to betray us, but it is wise never to let your guard down with anyone, no matter how loyal you think they are."

"Yes, Father," Draco said, still confused, and now a little frightened as well.

"Have you been watching the children of the lower houses, as I instructed you?" Lucius asked. "And is the Zabini boy behaving himself?"

"Yes, Father," Draco replied, "to both your questions. Zabini doesn't remember anything about what happened at Hogsmeade, and he hasn't made any trouble. He keeps quiet, and doesn't associate much with anyone besides Nott and Rosier, and Rosier's friend Damien Pierce."

"Pierce," Lucius said thoughtfully. "I believe his mother knew Narcissa back in school. Both his parents' families were sympathizers, but they were not quite brave enough to join our ranks."

"Pierce is talented enough at magic, when he stops chasing girls long enough to concentrate," Draco said, a little condescendingly. "He was able to cast a full Patronus in DADA class."

"Do you think he would be inclined to join our ranks?"

"Pierce is very close to Rosier; he'll go along with whatever Dylan and I do," Draco said confidently. "Same with Zabini."

"And the other children?"

"Many of them are eager to see us take power," Draco said. "The others are too scared to stand in our way."

"Good," Lucius said with a curt nod. "Keep exerting your influence over them, and continue to watch them closely. I'll talk to you later." Then he broke off contact before Draco could even say goodbye.

Draco stared at the mirror, which now reflected his face like a normal mirror; his reflection stared back at him, looking sullen and dejected. _Mother must have told him about the game,_ Draco thought sulkily. _Surely even if he didn't have time to watch it yet, he could have taken two seconds to say 'congratulations'!_ He put the mirror away back in his trunk, and saw the toy dragon Flitwick had given him. He said the command word and let it fly about the room, but that failed to cheer him up. "I'm too old to be playing with toys, anyway," he muttered, kicking it across the room. Then he picked it up and brushed it off, feeling guilty for some ridiculous reason he could not explain, even to himself. He sighed and hid the dragon back in the trunk along with the mirror.

He suddenly felt very lonely, and realized that he had no real friends, no one he could trust enough to talk to about this. He wasn't stupid; he knew that Crabbe and Goyle and Nott were his friends only because of his father's influence over theirs. Same with Dylan...except for maybe that one time, where they had briefly sympathized about their fathers together. But he didn't have a real friend, someone he could trust, someone who liked him just for himself, the way Dylan had Pierce and Nott and Zabini, the way even Crabbe and Goyle had each other. Then he shook his head quickly. "I am not jealous of Crabbe and Goyle!" he told himself indignantly. He decided to go for a walk to clear his head. When Crabbe and Goyle saw him walk through the common room, they jumped to their feet, but he motioned for them to stay behind, and left the Slytherin dorm alone.

He started to head towards Snape's office, then stopped himself. He was confused and disturbed by his father's words. He had taken it for granted that Snape would always be there for him, a loyal supporter of the Malfoys, but now he was no longer so sure of that. What "agenda" could Snape possibly have, besides serving the Dark Lord and gaining power in the wizarding world? That was the same agenda all the Death Eaters had. He had no doubt that Snape wanted power, but surely Snape wasn't stupid enough to cross Lucius Malfoy. Still, he didn't feel like talking to Snape in his current mood. 

He trudged aimlessly out of the dungeon and wandered through the castle; all the pleasure he had taken in his recent Quidditch victory had evaporated. It didn't matter that he didn't have any friends to confide in, Draco thought gloomily, because his father had told him to trust no one. No doubt his father would tell him that it was foolish and sentimental to wish for a friend. He suddenly hated Lucius Malfoy for ruining his good mood, for not taking the time to say, "You did great in your match Draco, I'm so proud of you!" The victory he had worked so hard for, and not only had his father not been there to see it, he didn't even care! Then Draco felt guilty; his father must be very busy doing important things for the Dark Lord; of course he didn't have time to worry about a Quidditch match! But still...as busy as he was, how much time would it take to say "congratulations, son"?

He saw a scarf lying on the floor--some student must have dropped it. It was red and gold--Gryffindor colors. He kicked at it, wishing he could kick the student it belonged to instead.

"What did that scarf ever do to you?" a cheerful voice asked, and Draco looked up to see a smiling Professor Lupin. Somehow his wanderings had led him near Lupin's office. "Can I do something for you, Draco?"

"Uh, no," Draco replied, feeling a little flustered. "I was just...walking. And thinking." 

Lupin was holding an armful of books and papers, apparently having just stepped out of his office, but he held open the office door and asked, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"What?" Draco asked, not sure he'd heard right.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Lupin repeated, still smiling. "I find it helps me to think better." Even as Draco started to stammer out a demurral, Lupin had placed a hand on his back and was gently but firmly pushing him into the office. Before Draco knew what was happening, he was sitting in front of Lupin's desk holding a hot cup of tea (sugar, no milk).

"You seemed to be very deep in thought," Lupin said, taking a sip from his own cup. 

"It's not that uncommon," Draco retorted. "Well, maybe for a Gryffindor--they don't seem to think very much." He braced himself for a reprimand, but Lupin just laughed.

"Unfortunately, that is a Gryffindor-ish trait--to act without thinking, I mean," Lupin said, still smiling pleasantly. "It got my friends into trouble many times when they were your age. They spent a great deal of time in detention--particularly with Professor Blackmore. I see some things never change." 

Draco flushed and glared at Lupin, but Lupin seemed to be gently teasing him rather than mocking him. He stared at his teacher in confusion. Why the hell was Lupin always so nice to him no matter how rude he was? And why did he suddenly feel guilty about being rude to Lupin?

"You must be looking forward to your next Quidditch match," Lupin said, as if making small talk. "You played very well in the last game. Your housemates are all very proud of you; I'm sure your parents must be, too."

Draco winced, wondering for a moment if Lupin could read minds, before he dismissed the thought as ludicrous. "My mum is," Draco said sharply, "but my dad didn't get to see it, as you well know!"

"I'm sorry," Lupin said quietly.

Draco was even more bewildered than before. "Why the hell should you be sorry?" he asked in a tone that would have earned him a week's detention from Snape, Lucius Malfoy's son or not. "You're a Gryffindor and a supporter of Dumbledore; you probably wish my dad was back in prison!"

Lupin calmly sipped his tea. "I won't lie to you, Draco," he said solemnly. "I don't approve of the Death Eaters' actions, and yes, I would prefer that they were safely locked away where they would not be able to harm anyone. But I am sorry--not for Lucius, but for you. I know you must miss your father."

"What would you know about it?" Draco snarled. 

"Both my parents died several years ago," Lupin said quietly. "I still miss them very much."

"Um...how did they die?" Draco asked apprehensively. "Was it...during the war?" Why did he suddenly hope that his father was not responsible for Lupin's parents' deaths?

Lupin shook his head, much to Draco's relief. "No, it was after the war. My mother was very ill, and my father died less than a year after she did. He wasn't sick himself, but I think he just didn't have the will to go on after she died."

"They were close, then?" Draco asked. His parents got along well enough, but he couldn't picture his dad dying of a broken heart if anything happened to his mother. His parents' marriage had been arranged, of course, in proper pureblood fashion, but it had always been a harmonious one, and if anyone had asked him if they loved each other, up until today, he would have said "yes". But now he was not so sure, as he recalled his father's admonition to trust no one, and his earlier warning not to be ruled by sentiment like Dylan's father had been.

"Yes," Lupin replied to Draco's spoken question. "They were very close." He smiled a little, looking nostalgic, if a bit sad. "Soulmates, I suppose you would say."

Draco sipped his tea. His dad would call that romantic rubbish. But he wondered what that would be like, to have someone who loved you so much that they would rather die than live without you... "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked suspiciously. "And not just to me, but to the other Slytherins--Crabbe and Goyle and Nott."

"You are my student, Draco," Lupin said in a calm, matter-of-fact voice. "Of course I care about you, and Vincent and Gregory and Theodore. I care about all my students."

"But you're a Gryffindor!" Draco shouted in frustration.

Lupin sighed. "Yes, but I've never really been fond of this arbitrary division of Houses."

"Arbitrary?!" Draco exclaimed in outrage.

"The Sorting Hat is right," Lupin said, sounding almost angry, although it didn't seem to be Draco he was angry at. "This division of Houses has caused too much dissension; it's tearing the school apart rather than bringing it together. When I was a student at Hogwarts, there were people in other Houses I would have liked to have been friends with, but I couldn't, because Gryffindors could only be friends with other Gryffindors. At least, that's what all my housemates thought, though I never really understood why."

Draco just shook his head. Well, it wasn't too surprising that the werewolf was a little loony, he supposed...

"Professor Blackmore thinks the same way I do," Lupin said firmly. "Was it really so bad working with the Gryffindors on your project?"

"Yes!" Draco answered vehemently.

"Yet you completed your project, with flying colors, so Branwen tells me. Did you not feel even a little satisfaction at a job well done?"

"No," Draco replied firmly. 

"Well, still, I'm proud of you for managing to overcome your distaste for Gryffindor long enough to complete the project," Lupin said, looking amused rather than angry.

Draco's jaw dropped, and he knew he must look as witless as Crabbe or Goyle but he just couldn't help himself. He felt a brief rush of pleasure at the words "I'm proud of you" and then resentment that they had come from Lupin--a hated Gryffindor!--and not his father. He stood up and set his cup of tea down on Lupin's desk so abruptly that some of the tea spilled out onto the papers sitting on Lupin's desk. "Thank you for the tea, but I have to go now," Draco said stiffly.

Lupin got up to see him out, not seeming to be offended by either the spill or Draco's curtness. "You're welcome, Draco," he said in that cheery tone that always drove Snape up the wall; Draco could sympathize with his Head of House. He wondered what it would take to make the werewolf lose his composure. Then suddenly he remembered that he had seen Lupin lose his temper before--when the Gryffindors had been taunting the Slytherins during his class. Why did Lupin always get so upset when the Gryffindors insulted the Slytherins, yet never seemed to get angry when Draco insulted him?

"Good luck at your next match," Lupin said, holding the door open for Draco. "Oh...and by the way, that was a clever idea you had, with the roses." Lupin grinned at him mischievously and gave him a little wink, and suddenly Draco could picture what he must have been like as a boy. 

"Y-you knew that was me?" Draco stammered.

"Of course," Lupin replied. "Dylan couldn't afford to buy all those roses himself, and besides, he doesn't really think that way. He's a very serious-minded boy, considering what a prankster his father was." Lupin laughed. "Evan would have admired the sheer scope of your rose plan."

Draco grinned back at Lupin for a moment, feeling flattered. For all that Lucius Malfoy claimed that Evan Rosier had been a sentimental fool, he still had a reputation as a legendary prankster that had endured at Hogwarts for over twenty years. Draco liked being compared to a legend. Then, horrified, he realized that he was grinning at Lupin, the enemy, and quickly turned his smile into a scowl. 

Lupin just smiled and patted him on the shoulder in a fond manner, as if he were Potter or Weasley instead of Draco Malfoy, Slytherin and future Death Eater. "Feel free to stop by anytime for a cup of tea, Draco."

"When hell freezes over," Draco muttered under his breath as he headed back towards the dungeon. But somehow he felt much better, and no longer quite so upset about his conversation with his father.

*** 

"And what are you looking so smug about, Lupin?" Snape asked later that night.

Lupin grinned at him. "Oh, nothing. Just trying to win the hearts of your cynical Slytherins." Snape raised an eyebrow and waited expectantly. "I invited Draco Malfoy into my office for a cup of tea today."

"What?!" Snape exclaimed. "And he accepted?!"

"Well, he was sort of in a daze, and I hustled him into my office before he could get his wits about him." Lupin frowned and began to look concerned. "He seemed to be lost in thought. I don't think he was even aware--consciously, anyway--that he was near my office until he practically walked into me."

"And you had a cozy little chat over tea with Draco Malfoy?" Snape asked, still sounding incredulous.

"Well, mostly I talked and he listened," Lupin admitted. "But...I think he's upset about his father. I know he must miss him. I suppose it must have been hard on him, to finally have his victory over Gryffindor and not have Lucius there to see it."

Now Snape was frowning. "Yes, but he's been on cloud nine ever since the game, Lucius or not. Something else must have happened to trigger his mood." Snape began to look uneasy. "I wonder if he's been communicating with Lucius somehow. He wouldn't risk using his owl, though I suppose Narcissa might be passing coded messages back and forth between them. Or they could be using some device like our mirrors."

"Should we allow that?" Lupin asked, looking even more worried. "Can't you find a way to confiscate it?"

"I could probably search his room and take it away, if he does have such a device, but how would I explain that to Lucius?" Snape pointed out. "No, better to let Draco think we don't suspect anything. Maybe we can even worm some information out of him, between us. He's not very subtle, despite Lucius's best efforts; I can probably get him to drop his guard and brag to me if I feed his sense of self-importance, and you can work your Gryffindor charm on him, as you seem to have done with my other students..."

"All right, Severus," Lupin said with a smile. "But right now, I'd rather work my Gryffindor charm on you!" He kissed Snape and growled in his ear.

"I'm not sure it's working," Snape said, feigning indifference. "You had better try again." In response, Lupin twined his hands in Snape's hair, pulled his face down, and gave him a long, hard kiss that took his breath away and left him weak in the knees.

"How's that?" Lupin asked in a husky voice.

"Yes, I think it seems to be working now," Snape gasped, putting his arms around Lupin for support. 

Lupin grinned. "If you still have enough breath left to talk, it's not working well enough!" he said, and kissed Snape again. When they finally broke off the kiss, Snape dropped to the floor, pulling Lupin down with him. "Severus!" he laughed. "Can't you wait till we get to the bedroom? It's only ten feet away..."

"It's your Gryffindor charm," Snape growled. "I can't help myself."

"Why, you sly Slytherin, you're rather charming yourself!"

"Lupin?"

"Yes, Sev?"

"I believe you were the one saying something about talking too much. Shut up and make love to me."

That was not quite what Lupin had said, but he kept his silence and cheerfully obeyed.

*** 

Meanwhile, back at the Ministry of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt had begun working on his plan to discredit Gwydion Donner in the eyes of his Master. He walked up to Gwydion's desk and forced himself to smile in a friendly manner. "Gwydion!" he said, in a hearty, cheerful voice.

"Um, hello Kingsley," Gwydion said warily. Shacklebolt had never been particularly friendly to him before; in fact, he was usually just short of hostile, especially since Nymphadora Tonks's suspension, and he wondered what the Auror was up to.

"I wonder if I could talk with you for a few minutes," Shacklebolt said pleasantly.

"I'd love to, but I am a bit busy right now..." Gwydion hedged.

"Azkaban's empty," Shacklebolt pointed out bluntly, sounding more like his normal self. "No point in locking the barn door after the horses are stolen."

"It wasn't my fault!" Gwydion said defensively.

"I didn't say it was," Shacklebolt replied in a soothing tone. "But I'm just saying, there's no need to rush in developing spells to keep the prisoners secure in Azkaban when there are no prisoners left."

"But when the Death Eaters are recaptured--" Gwydion protested nervously. His heart was pounding, and he told himself not to be foolish; there was no way Shacklebolt or anyone else could connect him to the escape...was there?

"Well, you're right," Shacklebolt admitted. "We do want to be ready for them when they finally are recaptured. But surely you can spare an hour for lunch; you do have to eat, after all. Come on, my treat."

Shacklebolt seemed insistent, and there was no way Gwydion could refuse without causing a scene and drawing undue attention to himself. Some of his coworkers were already watching them curiously. "Fine," Gwydion sighed, and followed Shacklebolt to the cafeteria where the Ministry employees normally took their meals. They took their trays to an empty table near the center of the room, and Gwydion asked, "So what do you want, Kingsley?"

Shacklebolt took a bite of his sandwich and slowly chewed and swallowed while Gwydion waited impatiently. "I'm worried about my friend Tonks," he said.

"I can't take the collar off," Gwydion warned him. Was that was this was all about? "It wasn't my decision to put it on her; I was only following the Minister's orders--"

"Take it easy, Gwydion, I'm not blaming you," Shacklebolt said. "I know you were just doing your job. It's just...you have a great deal of influence among the people that matter."

Gwydion relaxed and took a bite of his own sandwich. So that was what Shacklebolt wanted! He had never been the type to play politics before, but maybe he was finally beginning to wise up...this, Gwydion could deal with. As a member of one of the most prominent pureblood families in the country, he was used to people trying to curry favor with him. "I'm not that influential," he said modestly.

"Oh, don't be modest, Gwydion," Shacklebolt said. "You may be new at the Ministry, but everyone thinks you're destined for great things. And you are heir to one of the most powerful families in the wizarding world."   
Gwydion preened a bit. "I'm still not sure what it is you think I can do for you."

"Surely you don't believe Nymphadora Tonks is a Death Eater."

"I'm not an Auror, only a researcher," Gwydion said pointedly. "It's not up to me to catch Death Eaters or determine their guilt or innocence."

"You didn't answer the question."

"I don't know Nymphadora very well," Gwydion said cautiously, "but I admit I never thought she would be the type to join the Death Eaters."

"She's a Metamorphmagus!" Shacklebolt said, banging the table with his fist in frustration. "If she were going to participate in a prison break, she'd have disguised her face!"

"Yes, that does seem logical," Gwydion said in a placating tone. "Unfortunately, as I said, it's not up to me to decide her guilt or innocence."

"But the higher-ups in the Ministry like you," Shacklebolt said. "A word or two from you, in the right ear..."

"You overestimate my influence," Gwydion said, but he was intrigued. Shacklebolt was a known supporter of Dumbledore; it could prove useful to have the Auror beholden to him...

"I'd be very grateful for whatever you can do," Shacklebolt said.

Gwydion smiled. "Well, I'll see what I can do, but I warn you, it's not much..."

"I appreciate it," Shacklebolt said, smiling at him warmly. He rose from his chair and held out his hand; Gwydion hesitated for a moment, then shook it. "I'd like to get Tonks's name cleared as soon as possible," Shacklebolt continued. "Though I'm sure we'll recapture the Death Eaters soon."

"You are?" Gwydion asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "Do you have any new leads?"

"We're sorting through some tips and rumors," Shacklebolt said casually. "Some of them are just nonsense, of course, but others look promising."

"Really?" Gwydion said nervously. "I mean, that's great! Um...what sort of rumors?"

"We're still trying to sort the wheat from the chaff, so to speak," Shacklebolt replied. "But I'll let you know when we've got something more definite."

"Please do," Gwydion said. "I mean...of course I would like to help in any way I can. You might find some of my spells and devices useful."

"Thanks, Gwydion," Shacklebolt said, patting him on the shoulder. "You know, to be honest, in the past I thought you were a bit stuck-up, but you're not a bad sort, Donner. I appreciate your offer."

"No problem," Gwydion said through gritted teeth, pasting a false smile on his face. The Auror left, and Gwydion turned his attention back to his lunch, but found he had no appetite. His stomach was churning with fear, wondering just how much Shacklebolt knew. Surely he didn't suspect Gwydion of being a Death Eater...and clearly he had no evidence, or Gwydion would be clapped in chains right now rather than eating in the staff cafeteria. 

No, surely no one would ever suspect Gwydion Donner, who had always been outspoken against the Death Eaters and Dark Mages, of being one himself. After all, everyone knew about the rift between himself and his sister, who had been disowned for taking a Death Eater lover. Gwydion relaxed and finished his lunch. No, Shacklebolt merely wanted some help in freeing his little Auror friend, that's all. He sneered a little; he didn't care much for Nymphadora Tonks, with her ridiculous purple hair and her impure blood, but maybe he could use her, or use Shacklebolt's affection for her, to gain some information for his Lord...

Shacklebolt came back to pester Gwydion several times after that, over the next week or two. Each time Gwydion assured his new "friend" that he was dropping subtle hints in the right ears, but it would take some time before his efforts bore fruit. Shacklebolt mentioned a few of the rumors he and his Aurors were sifting through, and mostly they were nonsense (such as the one that claimed the Death Eaters had fled the country and were hiding out in the United States), but one had some basis in fact. As Gwydion was sipping a cup of tea at his desk, Shacklebolt casually mentioned that he and some of the other Aurors had been keeping an eye on the Rosier mansion. 

Gwydion choked on his tea, and Shacklebolt patted him on the back. "Take it easy, Gwydion! Oh, that's right...I almost forgot. The Rosier child is your nephew, isn't he?"

"As far as I'm concerned, he's no kin to me!" Gwydion snapped. "What's so special about the Rosier mansion, anyway?" He scowled, remembering that Voldemort had not been pleased that Gwydion had failed to inform him ahead of time that the Aurors had been watching the estate. Of course, there was no longer any need for the Aurors to watch it, now that the Dark Lord had what he wanted...but Shacklebolt didn't know that. _Talk about locking the barn door after the horses are stolen,_ Gwydion silently sneered to himself.

"Well, Mad-Eye Moody seems to think that it contains some Dark Magic items that You-Know-Who might want. Of course, no one but a Rosier can get past the guardian roses, but Evan Rosier's son is nearly of age...we'll be keeping a close eye on that one when he graduates from Hogwarts."

_You should've been keeping an eye on him all along!_ Gwydion thought sourly. _The little child prodigy didn't wait till graduation to join the Death Eaters!_

"Personally, I think Mad-Eye's a bit paranoid," Shacklebolt continued, in what was probably the understatement of the year, "but I suppose there's no harm in humoring him. Anyway, thanks again, Gwydion, for helping out Tonks."

That very night, Gwydion and his brother were summoned to the Dark Lord's side. Not all the Death Eaters were there; Dylan and Snape seemed to be absent, but Gwydion recognized Wormtail's silver hand and Bellatrix Lestrange's heavily-lidded eyes.

"You have been seen being quite friendly recently with an Auror, one known to be a friend and supporter of Dumbledore," Voldemort said in a cold voice. "Would you care to explain yourself, Gwydion?"

"You mean Shacklebolt?" Gwydion asked, startled. "How did you know about that? I thought I was your only source in the Ministry--"

"I have eyes and ears everywhere, Gwydion," Voldemort interrupted. "Nothing you do escapes my notice. Crucio!"

Gilbert fell to the floor, screaming. "Stop!" Gwydion shouted. 

"If you betray me, Donner, I will slay your brother before your eyes!"

"I haven't betrayed you, Master, I swear!" Gwydion screamed. "Please stop!" Voldemort stared directly into Gwydion's eyes for a moment, then broke off the spell. 

"Then explain your sudden friendship with this Shacklebolt," the Dark Lord said, still sounding suspicious.

"He came to me, not the other way around!" Gwydion shouted. "He wants my help in clearing Nymphadora Tonks's name! He wants me to use my influence to help her, that's all, I swear!"

"And have you agreed to help him?"

"I pretended to agree," Gwydion said, squirming under the intense gaze of his Master's crimson eyes. "I thought perhaps I might be able to gain some useful information from him in return. I did it to help you, Master!"

"I see," Voldemort said, holding Gwydion's gaze a moment longer, before breaking eye contact. Gwydion shuddered with relief. "And have you learned anything useful?"

"They don't seem to have any reliable leads on the whereabouts of the escapees--um, my recently freed brethren," Gwydion replied nervously. "And they're still watching the Rosier estate. It was Moody who put them up to it. They don't know exactly what it is you wanted from the mansion, or that you already have it."

"Good," Voldemort said curtly. "Continue gathering information--and Gwydion?"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"In the future, be sure to keep me apprised of your activities, in order to avoid such...misunderstandings."

"Yes, my Lord!"

"You are dismissed."

Gwydion and Gilbert Disapparated, not waiting to be told twice. Voldemort turned to his Death Eaters. "We must keep an eye on that one; he won't hesitate to betray us, if he thinks he can do so without losing his precious hide. Your contacts are proving useful, Lucius."

Lucius Malfoy grinned beneath the hood of his robe. "Thank you, my Lord. Clerical workers hear a great deal more than their superiors realize. And the beauty of it is, they can't be exposed as Death Eaters, because they aren't Death Eaters."

"They still have no idea who they're reporting to, then?"

"No, as far as they're concerned, they're merely passing on a little harmless gossip to help some anonymous pureblood family play politics. And the gold I'm paying them keeps them from asking too many questions. It seems our civil servants regard themselves as overworked and underpaid; they're quite eager to supplement their meager salaries."

Voldemort laughed. "Very clever, Lucius!"

"It is my pleasure to serve you, my Lord," Lucius said, with a very self-satisfied smile beneath his hood.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The students prepare for Christmas and the Yule Ball, and Snape gets into the Christmas spirit (well, sort of.); Hogwarts gets three new teachers when the new term starts.

The teachers at Hogwarts usually eased up on the workload when the holidays drew near, since their students' attention spans seemed to decrease around that time, but Snape, Blackmore, and even Lupin, showed them no mercy.

Professor Blackmore had her classes studying how to summon earth and water elementals, although she didn't intend for them to cast the summoning spells yet; she said it was difficult for beginners to summon an earth or water elemental in the winter, when the ground and water were covered with snow and frozen over. But she did summon an ice elemental as a demonstration; like the smoke elemental Soot, it resembled a miniature dragon, only this one appeared to be made of ice. Blackmore led them out of the dungeon into the castle proper, and the children gasped in awe as the ice elemental blew gently on the windows, forming lacy, crystalline snowflake patterns on them. Blackmore cast a spell that would prevent them from melting until after the holidays, and the Headmaster cheerfully thanked her and the elemental for helping with the Christmas decorations.

Lupin continued to drill his students in defensive spells, reminding them sternly that their lives might someday depend on what they were learning in class. They continued working on their Patronus Charms, as well as on shield and stunning-type spells. He also taught them something new, how to draw runes of warding.

"These can be placed on an object, or around a door or window," Lupin explained, "to keep intruders at bay. The simplest wards keep out anyone but the caster; the more complicated ones can keep out or let in certain people specified by the caster."

Harry and most of the other Gryffindors looked eager and excited, but Draco yawned. "Is this really new to you Gryffindors?" he asked contemptuously. "I already have wards on my trunk and desk in my room."

"Then perhaps you can demonstrate for us, Draco," Lupin said smoothly, before the Gryffindors had a chance to respond. Draco blinked in surprise, but obediently walked to the head of the classroom and accepted the plain wooden box Lupin handed him. He used the specially prepared ink Lupin provided to draw a simple lock-rune on the top of the box, then took out his wand and invoked the warding spell. Lupin tried to open the box, and it remained sealed tightly shut. "Very good, Draco," Lupin said cheerfully. "Ten points to Slytherin. You may keep the box," he added, handing it back to Draco, who smiled at him for a moment before he caught himself and sneered. The Gryffindors looked annoyed, but before anyone had a chance to voice a protest, Lupin asked, "Who'd like to go next?"

"Me!" several of them shouted at once, raising their hands. The Slytherins remained silent, but they looked eager as well. Lupin provided a box for each student in his class, and by the end of the period, everyone, even Crabbe and Goyle, had managed to cast a successful warding spell on their box. 

The girls were especially delighted; Parvati and Lavender wanted to use their boxes as jewelry boxes. "Can we decorate them, Professor?" Lavender asked. "It won't hurt the ward, will it? The boxes are nice, but they are a bit plain..."

Lupin smiled. "So long as you do not erase the rune of warding, you may decorate it as you wish, even paint over the rune, and the spell will still be effective. In fact, tomorrow I'll show you how to draw a pattern that is both decorative and protective, but for now, our time is up. Class dismissed."

For once, the students were unhappy to see class come to an end, and groaned in disappointment, but they left and headed to lunch, admiring their boxes.

"This is really cool!" Ron said. "I can hide stuff in here, and no one will be able to touch it!" As the second-youngest child in the family, with several mischievous older brothers, he was used to not having much privacy and having his brothers go through his things. 

"A strong enough mage can break a simple warding spell," Hermione started to say, but as Ron's face fell, she hastily added, "but this should hold against casual intrusion--like snooping brothers, for instance." Ron grinned again. "And I'm sure Professor Lupin will teach us the more powerful spells once we master the easy ones."

"Do you think he can teach us a spell that can ward out Slytherins?" Ron wondered.

"Ron!" Hermione said indignantly, and Ron and Harry laughed.

"Just joking, Hermione," Ron grinned. "Still, it would be nice, wouldn't it..."

"It would be nice if we could ward you Gryffindors out of the school!" Draco retorted as he walked by with his cronies, but he sounded almost cheerful, and not as nasty as he usually did. With Lupin's box tucked under one arm, he sauntered on his way, not pausing to see if Ron would respond. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini hurried after him, but Crabbe and Goyle lingered behind for a moment and smiled shyly at Hermione. Goyle proudly held up his box, revealing a very carefully drawn warding rune.

"Are you two coming or what?" Theodore called to them impatiently, and they hurried to catch up with their companions.

"What was that about?" Harry asked in a puzzled voice.

"I think they were trying to thank me," Hermione replied, looking pleased. Ron and Harry stared at her in shock. "They were having a lot of trouble drawing the protective runes in Blackmore's class for our project, so I helped them out. I didn't really do much," she added modestly, as Harry and Ron continued to stare at her openmouthed. "I just noticed that they were getting flustered and frustrated when they saw a complicated rune, so I just broke it down into steps to make it seem simpler. Anyway, I think all the practicing we did must have helped them to draw the warding rune today."

"You helped Crabbe and Goyle," Ron said weakly. "And they were grateful?!"

"Yes," Hermione replied cheerfully. "They're not so bad, really, when Draco's not around. I feel sorry for them, actually. It sounds like they have a tough home life. I don't think their parents treat them very nicely."

"Crabbe and Goyle talked to you about their families?!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes," Hermione answered blithely, not seeming to notice that her two friends were still in shock. "Do you know that most purebloods don't marry for love? They have to marry whomever their parents pick out, whether they like the person or not!"

"Yeah, well, that's how most of the powerful Slytherin families do it, anyway," Ron said, still sounding a little dazed.

"Your parents' marriage wasn't arranged, was it?" Hermione asked, sounding distressed.

"Hell, no!" Ron said firmly. "They don't go in for all that snobby blood politics stuff!"

"Crabbe and Goyle," Harry muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

*** 

"I have a new assignment that will keep you busy right up until school ends," Snape announced to his Advanced Potions class with sadistic glee, and his students--except for Hermione, of course--repressed a collective groan. Even his Slytherins looked rather put out. "A very challenging project," he continued, ignoring their glum faces. "Not precisely a potion, more of an unguent, really."

Draco and Hermione looked up curiously at that, while Ron whispered to Hermione, "What's an unguent?"

"Five points off Gryffindor for talking during class," Snape immediately said, looking more pleased than ever; it had been some time since he'd had an excuse to dock points from Gryffindor. "Mr. Nott, will you please explain to the less educated members of this class what an unguent is?"

Theodore grinned maliciously at Ron as Draco and the other Slytherins snickered. "An ointment, salve, balm, cream, lotion--"

"I think we get the picture, Mr. Nott," Snape interrupted, but in an almost indulgent tone. "Five points to Slytherin." He turned to Neville with a much more stern expression on his face and asked, "Do you remember what I told the class at the beginning of term, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville went pale as Snape hovered over him almost eagerly, much like a vulture might hover over a dying man, anticipating its next meal. "Th-that the H-headmaster wanted us to learn things about c-combat and defense," Neville stuttered.

"That's right," Snape said, scowling and sounding disappointed; the vulture's dinner had just gotten to its feet and walked away. "This unguent combines both properties."

"Combat _and_ defense?" Draco asked; Harry resentfully noticed that Snape didn't deduct points when Malfoy spoke out of turn.

Snape, in fact, looked pleased. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Who can name some of the properties of woad?" Both Hermione and Draco immediately stuck their hands in the air. "Draco?"

"It can be used to make a blue dye," Draco said, looking smug. "The ancient Celts used it to paint their bodies when they went into battle. The leaves have healing properties and can be used to staunch bleeding. They're used in certain healing salves and poultices."

"Very good, Draco," Snape said approvingly. "Ten points to Slytherin." Draco smirked at Ron and Harry, who glared back at him. "The so-called 'body paint' the Celtic warriors used was in certain rare cases a magical unguent prepared by a wizard, though obviously, only clans who had access to a mage could obtain this unguent. They used the woad not just for cosmetic purposes, but for its healing properties. The woad, combined with valerian, rue, hyssop, and devil's bit for healing, saxifrage for strength and courage, and vervain for luck and healing, creates a potent unguent that gives the user strength and lessens the severity of his wounds. It won't stop a killing blow, of course, but it will immediately begin to heal minor wounds, and help stop the bleeding and dull the pain of more serious wounds, enabling the warrior to fight on much longer than normal."

Harry forgot his anger, intrigued by this new assignment. There was something he wanted to ask, but he knew that Snape would probably mock his ignorance. Then he mentally shrugged--well, that was nothing new, after all--and hesitantly raised his hand.

Snape's eyebrows shot up, but all he said was, "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Does this unguent provide any protection against magical attacks, sir?"

Snape stared at Harry for a moment, his black eyes unreadable, then answered, "The rue and vervain provide a very limited protection against malevolent magic, but I wouldn't recommend taking on a hostile mage armed with nothing but the unguent." Then he grinned, looking rather malevolent himself. "After you finish brewing your unguent, perhaps we'll test it and see just how effective it is." Harry gulped, Ron turned pale, and even the Slytherins looked nervous.

The unguent (its official name was Celtic War Paint, but Snape seemed to find that distastefully melodramatic, and simply referred to it as "the unguent") was the most difficult and time-consuming concoction that Snape had assigned so far. The other leaves and roots had to be chopped, ground, or mashed, which was tedious enough, but preparing the woad was the most complicated part of the process: the leaves had to be chopped up, steeped in boiling water, the liquid strained off to separate it from the leaves, then mixed with ashes (its alkaline properties being required to "fix" the blue dye, Hermione cheerfully informed Harry and Ron as Snape gave her a sour look, which meant that she was no doubt correct as usual), then that mixture had to be allowed to steep until the sediment settled to the bottom. Then they had to strain it off, add fresh water to the sediment, and repeat the last step several times until they were left with a dark blue sediment, which, when dried, left behind the blue powder which formed the base of the unguent. 

The dye, Harry and the others found, was difficult to wash off, and several members of Snape's class walked around with blue hands for a few days until Hermione found a cleaning spell that would remove it. The Slytherins, of course, didn't have to worry about stained hands past the first day. Draco claimed that he'd found the spell that kept the dye from clinging to their hands, but Harry suspected Snape had simply given it to them--probably to shut up Pansy Parkinson, who had screeched about her blue hands as if she'd been permanently disfigured until Snape had threatened her with detention. 

All the ingredients then had to be mixed together, in very specific proportions, and "steeped in sunlight for one day, then steeped in moonlight for one night," according to Snape and their textbook. The problem was finding someplace safe to "steep" their jarfuls of unguent where they would not accidentally--or on purpose--be knocked over. It was Hermione who came up with the idea of asking Blackmore for help--brilliant, because she seemed to be the only person other than Voldemort that Snape feared, and ever since the incident with Bane, Draco lived in absolute terror of her. 

Blackmore smiled at Hermione's request, then spoke to Professor Sinistra, who granted them the use of the Astronomy Tower for one day and night. Blackmore herself drew a protective warding circle around the Gryffindors' jars, then went to Snape and cheerfully offered to do the same for his other students. Snape scowled at her, but reluctantly acquiesced. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs looked relieved, while the Slytherins looked sullen and disappointed--or at least Draco did. Pansy and Millicent didn't seem to care one way or the other, Blaise was quiet and expressionless as usual, and Theodore always looked sullen, so it was difficult to tell whether it was in response to Blackmore or not. But in any case, the jars of unguent were safely steeped and retrieved by their owners the following morning.

The class nervously awaited the "testing" of their unguents. While Harry had envisioned Snape hurling hexes at them or cutting them with a knife to test the efficacy of their unguents, he merely ordered them to coat their hands with it, and set them to work slicing nettles. To Harry's surprise, the prickly stems and leaves did not sting his hands as they had the last time, when he had been preparing them for the Healing Potion that had been their first assignment. Or rather, they stung, but only briefly, then the pain quickly died away.

"Ouch!" Justin Finch-Fletchley exclaimed as his knife slipped and cut his finger. Then he stared in amazement as the shallow cut slowly sealed itself and stopped bleeding, leaving behind a thin red scar beneath the blue unguent.

"You are clumsy, Mr. Finch-Fletchley," Snape observed in a cold voice, "but it seems that your unguent was properly prepared, at least."

"Well, the healing part works," Justin whispered to Harry as Snape moved on to observe the Ravenclaws, "but I don't feel any stronger or braver."

"You'd need to be wearing more of the unguent to feel that effect," Snape said without turning around, and Justin jumped a little. "The ancient warriors used to cover their bodies with it, not just their hands." Justin fell silent and concentrated very hard on slicing his nettles, and Harry privately thought that even if he covered himself from head to toe with the blue unguent, he would never feel brave around the intimidating Potions Master.

After they were done with the nettles, Snape had them cast minor hexes upon each other. He had them work only with their housemates, and Harry was a little surprised--he'd half-expected Snape to set Draco against him, as he had during Lockhart's ill-fated Dueling Club. Snape seemed to notice Harry's surprise and said dryly, "I don't wish to fill out a lot of tedious paperwork if you should accidentally kill one another, particularly so close to the holidays." 

They discovered that the unguent mitigated the effects of a spell that caused physical wounds, such as a Stinging Hex, but had no effect on something like an Impediment Curse or Disarming Spell. Snape watched them carefully to make sure the hexing didn't get out of hand, so it was almost like one of Lupin's Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons, and Harry, even more surprised than before, found that he was actually enjoying himself. He was almost disappointed when the bell rang and Snape said, "Label your sample vials and leave them on my desk on your way out. Class dismissed."

Harry and his friends removed the unguent from their hands with a cleaning spell and filled their vials. Normally they poured their leftover potions down the drain after giving a sample to Snape, but Harry capped his jar and slipped it into his bookbag. "It might come in handy sometime," he said in a low voice to Ron, Hermione, and Neville. "You never know." His friends followed his example and kept their jars, too. Snape's eyes narrowed as he watched them leave, but he said nothing.

*** 

Since most of the Slytherins, following Snape's suggestion, were staying behind for the holidays, the Headmaster decided to hold a Yule Ball this year; he said it might help lift the students' morale in these difficult times. Because of this, many students from the other Houses elected to remain at school as well. Everyone was quite excited about it, and Harry was a little torn; he wanted to stay behind and go to the Ball with his friends, but he also wanted to spend Christmas with Sirius. "Well, it's not like I have anyone to go with, anyway," he said a little wistfully.

"Why don't you ask Ginny?" Ron suggested. "You don't have a girlfriend, and she just dumped Dean. I think she's over her crush on you, but you could go as friends and still have a good time. A better time, maybe, than going with a girlfriend, 'cause you don't have to worry about impressing her or being nervous."

"If the two of you are staying for the holidays, I'll stay, too," Hermione said. "I think asking Ginny to the Ball would be a wonderful idea," she added, trying not to look too smug. Clearly, her two male friends were clueless; although Ginny claimed that she had long ago given up on Harry, Hermione thought she might still secretly harbor some feelings for him. Personally, Hermione thought they would make a perfect couple, but she knew Harry would resist if she tried to push the idea on him, so all she said was, "Ginny's been a little depressed since she broke up with Dean. It would do her good to go out and have some fun."

"Well, sure," Harry said slowly, warming up to the idea. "Go to the Ball with a friend, have some fun, no pressure."

"I'll even give you dancing lessons," Hermione said with a grin.

Harry grinned back, then looked worried. "But Sirius will be disappointed if I don't spend Christmas with him."

"What if you spend Christmas with him, but come back to Hogwarts for the Ball?" Hermione suggested.

"Can I do that?"

"You can ask the Headmaster for permission to be on the safe side, but I don't see why not. Dylan is going home for a week and then coming back early to study for his O.W.L.s."

Ron scowled. "Is Rosier going to the Ball?"

"No, he won't be back till a few days later."

Ron cheered up when he heard that. "Well, if Harry's going to the Ball, then we should all go. Um..." He flushed a little and cleared his throat. "Maybe...uh...you and me could go together, Hermione, since, um, neither of us is seeing anyone either."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then smiled and said, "Sure, that sounds like fun."

"Then it's settled!" Ron said, sounding relieved. "We'll all go the Ball!"

*** 

Meanwhile, in Slytherin, Draco was privately chewing out Dylan. "You can't go home now, Rosier! Snape's supposed to tutor us in the Dark Arts--on our Master's orders!"

"I know, but I can't tell my great-uncle that!" Dylan protested. "He's a supporter of Dumbledore, you know! My family is insisting that I come home for Christmas. I told them that I need to study for my O.W.L.s, but Uncle Math pointed out that I'm already getting top marks in all my classes. I managed to convince him to let me come back a week early, but I'll make him suspicious if I keep arguing about it."

"Didn't Snape tell all the parents that he wanted the Slytherins to stay at school for the holidays?"

"Yeah, but Math doesn't trust Snape. I think he suspects Snape is still a Death Eater. He doesn't trust my mother either; that's why they keep her locked up on the estate all the time. I was lucky they let her come to the Quidditch match."

"Well, I guess it can't be helped," Draco grudgingly conceded. "But you'll be missing out on a week's worth of lessons."

"I'd love to learn more about the Dark Arts," Dylan said in a regretful tone. "My mother's taught me some things, but I'm sure Snape knows a lot, too."

"At Durmstrang they actually teach the students Dark spells, and not just this namby-pamby Defense stuff," Draco said. "Finally, we'll be learning something useful! Don't worry, Rosier; I'll go over the stuff you missed out on with you."

"Thanks, Draco," Dylan said, pretending to be grateful, and Malfoy finally left him in peace. But Dylan was a little worried; of course he missed his family and wanted to see them, but he knew that Snape could have persuaded them to let him stay at school. So why had Snape told him to go home? "Go home and spend Christmas with your family," Snape had said gruffly. "There will be little enough time for such things later. But come back a week early so that I can honestly say that I tutored you in the Dark Arts along with the others." Was there something Snape knew that he wasn't telling Dylan? Was the war going to start soon? 

He tried to put these worries out of his mind, since there was nothing he could do about them right now. His female classmates all bemoaned the fact that he would have to miss the Ball, but Dylan wasn't really sorry about that, because couldn't ask out the one person he wanted to go with--Hermione. Besides, it would cause more trouble than it was worth to favor one of the Slytherin girls above the others by choosing one as a date; he preferred to keep things harmonious by treating them all equally, since he wasn't interested in any of them, anyway.

He was a little--well, more than a little--put out when he heard that Weasley had asked Hermione to the Ball. He was furious at the Gryffindor boy for moving in on his territory--although he knew that Hermione would kill him if she ever caught him referring to her as "his territory". And then he was almost amused as it suddenly dawned on him why Weasley had been so hostile to him ever since they had met. 

_He's jealous!_ Dylan realized, then contemptuously thought, _Stupid git! I wouldn't have waited six years to make my move, if I were him!_

Most girls would not see Weasley as competition for Dylan, but Dylan knew that Hermione was not most girls; she was not moved by his charm and good looks the way the other girls were (or at least, not much), which was what he liked about her, but it also made him worry that he might actually lose her to Weasley. He had to do something, he decided; at least give her a Christmas present even if he couldn't take her to the Ball. But he couldn't risk being caught sending a present to her by owl. He thought about asking Snape to give it to her, then dismissed the idea as ridiculous. But Lupin, on the other hand...

He managed to start an argument with Colin Creevey in DADA class; it was easy enough, with the Gryffindors still feeling a little touchy about their Quidditch loss. All he had to do was gloat a little and make a snide remark about Harry Potter, and not just Creevey but all the Gryffindor boys were up in arms. Lupin gave Dylan a nearly imperceptible wink, and sternly sentenced him to an afternoon's detention, then took ten points from Gryffindor, which was an added bonus. Maybe he should feel a little guilty about that, but after all, it was their own fault for letting themselves be baited like that.

He reported to Lupin's office, where his teacher served him a cup of tea and asked with a smile, "All right, Dylan, what did you want to talk about?"

"I was just wondering if you could give this to Hermione," Dylan said, pulling a small, brightly-wrapped box from his pocket. "I can't do it myself without raising suspicions."

"I'd be happy to," Lupin said, taking the package. "Is that all?"

"Yes, sir," replied Dylan. "Um...you won't tell Professor Snape, will you? I don't think he would be too happy about it."

Lupin just grinned. "Oh, don't worry about Severus, Dylan; I can handle him."

Dylan noticed, with some trepidation, that Lupin hadn't really answered his question, but all he said was, "Yes, sir."

*** 

Lupin asked Hermione to stop by his office the following day, ostensibly to discuss an extra-credit assignment she had done for his class. "This is for you, from Dylan. He knows it's not safe to give it to you in person, so he asked me to give it to you for him."

Hermione flushed with pleasure. "Thank you, Professor! Actually, I have something for him, too, but I didn't know how I could get it to him..."

"I'd be happy to pass it along," Lupin said cheerfully, feeling rather like Cupid.

Later, in Snape's quarters, Lupin handed Snape a large gift-wrapped box.

"It's a bit early for that, isn't it, Remus?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not for you, love," Lupin replied, laughing. "Though I do have something special in mind for you! But Hermione would like to give Dylan a Christmas present; I thought you could pass it along without raising any suspicions. It would look odd if I gave Dylan detention again so soon after the last time."

Snape scowled. "If you want to play Cupid for two hormonal teenagers, that's your business, Lupin, but please don't make it mine."

"Pretty please, Severus?" Lupin cooed sweetly, nuzzling his lover's neck. "Do it for me? I'll make it worth your while..."

"Oh, very well," Snape said irritably, flushing a little. "Just stop using that insipid tone of voice!" Lupin grinned at him; Snape ignored him and hefted the box curiously. "Feels heavy...must be a book. Not very romantic, but I suppose that's in keeping with Miss Granger's character..."

"You never know, Severus," Lupin pointed out, still grinning. "It might be a book of love poetry." He laughed at the horrified expression on Snape's face, but he suspected that his lover wasn't as opposed to the match as he liked to pretend. "They're your top-marked students, Severus; you should be happy. Think what talented little potion-brewing children they could produce if they got married someday!"

Snape shuddered. "Perish the thought, Lupin!"

"Maybe those children would call us 'Uncle Remus' and 'Uncle Severus,'" Lupin continued, enjoying his little fantasy--and the outraged look on Snape's face.

"LUPIN!" Snape howled.

Lupin burst out laughing as Snape glared at him. When he got himself under control again, he handed Snape another package. 

"What's this?" Snape growled. "Does Dylan have another Gryffindor girlfriend?"

"No, Severus," Lupin replied calmly. "That one's for you. From Hermione. She asked me to give it to you."

"What?!" Snape exclaimed, staring at the small gift-wrapped parcel in shock. "Why would she do that?"

Lupin shrugged. "Maybe she likes you." Snape snorted derisively. "Or perhaps she appreciates the effort you go through, to teach and protect her and her friends. Maybe it's because of the gift you gave her last year."

"The gift that _you_ gave her last year," Snape corrected him. "And I hope neither you nor she expects a repeat performance."

"Oh, come on, Severus," Lupin wheedled.

"Absolutely not!" Snape roared. "I'm not going to let you trick me again, Lupin! I'm not giving you a single Galleon to spend on those brats!"

"But Severus--"

"Besides," Snape continued, "it would be showing favoritism to give presents to only some of my students and not the others."

It was Lupin's turn to snort in derision. "Like you ever cared about that before! Are you getting Dylan a Christmas present?"

Snape blushed a little, confirming Lupin's suspicions. "Well, yes," he admitted reluctantly. "But none of his classmates will know, since he's going home for Christmas. I'll owl it to Mathias's estate. I'll even send Granger's gift along with mine, but I'm not buying presents for your Gryffindor brats!"

Snape refused to be moved, despite Lupin's wheedling and nagging. But Lupin thought Snape looked just a bit touched and bewildered as he looked down at Hermione's present again, before disdainfully tossing it aside, saying, "I can't imagine what that idiot girl was thinking!" So Lupin smiled and held his peace.

*** 

It was absolutely ridiculous, Snape told himself, to feel any sort of obligation towards the girl; he hadn't asked her to give him a present, after all. And he had never used the green scarf she had given him last year--he never wore anything but black if he could help it. But he still had it tucked away in the bottom of his dresser drawer; Snape didn't receive many Christmas presents, and part of him was loathe to discard one even if it was totally useless, although he was too embarrassed to admit that to anyone, even Lupin. So somehow he found himself gift-wrapping a textbook on warding spells; it wouldn't do to send a Potions text, because he intended to send it anonymously, and he knew that Lupin was covering warding in his Defense classes. However, the only problem was figuring out how to get it to the girl without anyone suspecting...

Then Bane showed up at his office, as he often did, hoping to cadge a treat, and Snape was struck by inspiration. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a large foil-wrapped chocolate Santa, one he had confiscated from a particularly idiotic first-year Hufflepuff after he had caught the boy eating candy during class. He shook his head a little, wondering if the students were letting their guard slip because it was so close to the holidays, or whether he was losing his touch at terrorizing the little brats. 

Meanwhile Bane cawed eagerly and reached for the candy, but Snape pulled it out of his reach. "Do you want this, Bane?" he asked, and the raven nodded eagerly. "Then you'll have to do me a favor first." Bane cocked his head to one side, and listened attentively. "Take this package to Miss Granger, and don't let anyone see you deliver it, understand? And don't tell anyone, including your mistress, that it was from me." 

He felt a little silly saying that last sentence, but he suspected that Bane was able to communicate intelligently, at least with Branwen, so it was better to be safe than sorry. Bane nodded, picked up the package by grasping it by the ribbon with his claws, and flew out through the fireplace. He returned several minutes later and claimed his reward. Snape, feeling very smug and pleased with himself, scratched the raven on the head as Bane greedily consumed the piece of chocolate.

*** 

Parvati, Lavender, Pansy, and Millicent were gathered in the Incantations workshop, supposedly studying, but were actually gossiping about the Ball. Blackmore had declared that since the mixed groups had worked so well before, she would like to see them continue with the same study partners. The boys all complained loudly about that--safely out of Blackmore's presence, of course--but the girls didn't really mind.

"It's too bad Dylan has to go home for Christmas," Pansy sighed mournfully. 

"Yes, too bad," agreed Lavender glumly. 

"It doesn't matter," Millicent pointed out. "Pansy would still have to go with Draco, and Draco would never allow Dylan to take a Gryffindor to the Ball, so none of you would be able to go with him, anyway." She sighed wistfully, "Maybe I would have had a chance to go with him, though..."

"So you're going with Malfoy again?" Parvati asked Pansy, who nodded, without much enthusiasm. "You don't look too happy about it."

"Oh, Draco's all right, I suppose," Pansy said indifferently. "He's good looking, he's rich, and he comes from a good family. He's pretty full of himself, but I could do worse."

"Yeah, you could be going with Crabbe or Goyle," Millicent said. 

Pansy made a face. "Draco's a good catch. At least, that's what my mother says. I'll probably have to marry him someday."

"What?!" Parvati and Lavender squealed.

"Well, my parents have been hinting that they'd like to arrange a marriage between us when we come of age," Pansy explained, looking confused at the Gryffindor girls' surprise. "That's how things are done, after all. Malfoy and I both come from good families. Aren't your families at least dropping hints about who they'd like you to marry?" Parvati and Lavender shook their heads, and it was Pansy's turn to look shocked. "You're purebloods, aren't you? Didn't your parents have arranged marriages?"

"My parents were school sweethearts; they met and fell in love at Hogwarts," Lavender said. 

"My mother's parents were friends with my father's parents," Parvati said, "and they sort of encouraged them to get together, but they wouldn't have forced a marriage on them if they didn't like each other."

The Slytherin girls shook their heads in disbelief. "Gryffindors," Pansy muttered.

"So who are you going to the Ball with?" Lavender asked Millicent, trying to change the subject.

"Theodore Nott," Millicent replied unenthusiastically.

"Oh," Lavender said, surprised. "Well, he's a bit...um...lanky," she said in a falsely bright tone, "but he's not really bad-looking or anything. At least, he wouldn't be, if he didn't scowl all the time..."

"He only asked me because Draco told him to," Millicent interrupted in a gloomy voice. "I don't think he even likes girls. At least, I've never seen him look twice at one..."

"Then why don't you go with someone else?" Parvati suggested. "Blaise Zabini, maybe--he's kind of cute, if a bit quiet. Or Damien Pierce--"

Millicent shook her head. "You don't understand Slytherin politics, Parvati. Damien's family isn't as high-ranking as Theodore's, and the Zabinis are just one step up from being paupers. My parents would have a cow. Besides, Draco wants me to go with Nott, and it's not wise to offend the Malfoys." She looked even gloomier as she added, "I just hope my parents don't make me marry Nott."

"It's still better than marrying Crabbe or Goyle," Pansy said with a shrug. "But my mother says his parents will probably arrange a marriage with the Avery girl, since their families seem to be close."

"You're right," Parvati said, shaking her head uneasily. "I don't understand Slytherin politics." Mention of the Malfoys' influence reminded her that the Death Eaters were still at large, and she didn't want to think about such unpleasant things right now. "Well, we can still have fun at the Ball," she said briskly, changing the subject again. "What are you going to do about your robes and your hair?"

"I don't know," wailed Pansy, tugging at a lock of her lank, blonde hair. "I can't do anything with my hair!" She gazed enviously at Parvati's long plait of sleek, dark hair. "I wish I had hair like yours!"

Parvati, feeling flattered, gazed at the Slytherin girl with an appraising eye. When the Slytherins had been their enemies, the Gryffindor girls used to joke that Pansy had a face like a pug, but that wasn't really true. She had a round face, yes, and a short, upturned nose, but she wasn't ugly. "Your hair is too long and heavy; it doesn't suit your face," Parvati said. "You should cut it; it would look much better short."

"You think so?" Pansy asked uncertainly.

"I know so," Parvati said firmly. "I can cut it for you, if you like."

The Slytherin girls stared at her suspiciously, and Lavender added, "Parvati does my hair; she's really good at it!"

"Well, okay, I guess," Pansy said dubiously. "But if this is some kind of trick--"

Parvati sighed irritably. "I wouldn't do something like that! We're friends now, aren't we?" Pansy and Millicent looked startled but pleased. "Look, if you don't trust me, you can have Millicent watch while I do it." Parvati grinned. "She can hex me if I try something funny."

"Okay, then let's do it," Pansy said in a determined voice. "Quick, before I change my mind."

Lavender ran back to the Gryffindor dorm to fetch Parvati's shears and mirror. "Don't squirm," Parvati warned, as Pansy shifted nervously in her seat, watching her blonde locks fall to the floor. "Unless you want to end up bald!" Pansy forced herself to remain still, and finally Parvati said, "All done!"

"You look good," Millicent said, sounding a little surprised. 

"Let me see!" Pansy said eagerly, and Lavender handed her the mirror. She now had a chin-length bob, which somehow made her look more pert than puggish. She tossed her hair and smiled with delight.

"You look so cute!" squealed Lavender, and Pansy preened.

"My head feels a lot lighter without all that hair," Pansy laughed. "I like it! Thanks, Parvati!"

"What about me?" Millicent asked eagerly, and Parvati looked at the tall, heavily built girl, who usually wore her long black hair in braids or a ponytail. She was never going to look delicately pretty, but...

"For you, we want a more regal look," Parvati decided. "We don't need to cut your hair, just style it differently." She brushed out and re-braided Millicent's hair, coiling it around her head in a complicated arrangement that looked like a coronet. She stuck in a couple of hairpins to hold it in place, and triumphantly said, "There!"

Millicent gazed at her reflection in the mirror, while Pansy and Lavender cooed over her and told her how regal and queenly she looked. Meanwhile, Parvati looked at her creation with a critical eye. "Not bad, but it would look better with a couple of jeweled hairpins, and maybe we could weave some ribbons into the braids. Green and gold, I think, with your coloring. You should get a floor-length robe; dark green velvet--nothing frilly or fancy, something simple and elegant."

"What kind of robe should I get?" Pansy asked, eager for Parvati's advice now.

"No ruffles or frills like that robe you wore back in fourth year," Parvati said firmly. "And nothing pink--it makes you look all washed out. Something more bold--red, maybe. Hmm." She took out her notebook and quill and began making some sketches.

"How did you get to be so good at this?" Pansy wondered out loud.

Parvati smiled with pleasure. "Oh, I've always loved clothes and make-up and pretty things. I used to dress up my dolls and make outfits for them when I was little."

"And now you have life-size dolls to work on," Lavender laughed.

"My parents call me frivolous sometimes," Parvati admitted. "But...I'd like to be a fashion designer someday." She blushed. "I guess that's silly..."

"No," Pansy replied. "If you designed a line of robes, I'd buy them."

"Me too," Millicent and Lavender chorused.

Parvati smiled happily, and Pansy added, "Can I borrow this sketch? I want to send it to my mother and ask her to buy me a robe that looks like that for the ball."

"Sure!"

Professor Blackmore stood outside the door, listening to the girls' conversation; Bane had been spying on them, and had gone to report to his mistress that the girls were gossiping and playing around instead of studying. But instead of bursting in on them and giving them detention, she only smiled, lifting a finger to her lips to warn Bane to keep silent as well, and quietly returned to her office.

*** 

Although he was sorry to be missing the Ball, Dylan was happy to be home with his family on Christmas morning. His first present was a new broomstick--a very good one, but not quite as good as the one Draco owned. From the wink his mother gave him, Dylan was sure that was quite deliberate; Ariane, at least, understood how House politics worked, and knew better than to make Draco jealous. Dylan grinned back at her and opened his other presents. There was a chess set from Uncle Math, a book on the history of Quidditch from Aunt Goewin, and some new clothes from his mother--robes and shirts in black, silver-gray, and Slytherin green.

"You have to keep up your image as a heartbreaker, after all," Ariane said fondly. She also gave him a silver hair clasp etched with the Rosier design of a rose in bloom surrounded by thorny vines; Goewin frowned a little when she saw that, but said nothing. There were presents from his friends, of course--some Zonko's magic tricks from Damien, and a set of Gobstones from Blaise and Theo; they knew better than to buy him candy (although Draco had given him a box of Chocolate Frogs) because they knew he would receive more candy than he could eat from his female admirers, and they were right.

"Oh my," Goewin said, staring at all the boxes of candy and cookies, many of them accompanied by perfumed notes; a few of the more creative girls had written poetry. "You certainly are popular, Dylan."

"That's my boy," Ariane said proudly. "Just like his father!" She began reading some of the love notes. "'Roses are red, violets are blue'--this one's rather trite!" She crumpled up the note and tossed it aside. "Now this one at least is a bit more original--'Your eyes like twin pools of mercury...'"

"Mother, please!" Dylan protested, blushing. Ariane laughed merrily, and Dylan smiled, and decided that a little embarrassment was worth it to see his mother acting so happy and carefree, looking like the young girl his father must have fallen in love with. He laughed along with her and continued opening his presents. Somewhat to his surprise, he found he had gotten presents from three of his teachers: a book on advanced protective runes and circles from Blackmore, a model Firebolt that could really fly from Lupin, and a book called Advanced Potion Brewing from Snape.

"My, my!" Ariane said, raising her eyebrows. "Who would have thought Severus could be so sentimental?"

"It's a textbook, Ariane," Goewin pointed out.

"Believe me, Goewin," Ariane replied, "for Severus, that's sentimental."

Dylan privately agreed with his mother; he had not expected Snape to give him anything for Christmas, and felt touched and pleased that he had. He felt a little guilty that he hadn't gotten anything for Snape, though, or Lupin, for that matter.

"Oh, don't worry about it, dear," Ariane said dismissively. "I sent Severus the usual Christmas bribe--imported French chocolates; very expensive, very high-quality." Goewin gave her a reproachful look, and Ariane calmly told her, "It's Slytherin politics, Goewin. It's traditional to bribe the Head of House to make sure he looks after your children. Evan's parents used to do the same thing, only Professor De Lacy preferred a bottle of good Scotch to chocolates." Goewin sighed, Dylan laughed, and Math looked amused.

After setting aside Snape's book, Dylan found that he had only one gift left. "It's from Hermione!" he exclaimed with delight. 

"Yes, it came along with Severus's gift," Ariane said. She sighed a little, resigning herself to the possibility of a Muggle-born Gryffindor daughter-in-law someday. Well, she was hardly one to complain about unsuitable matches, she supposed...

Dylan was too busy tearing the wrapping off the box to notice his mother's reluctance. He opened the lid, revealing a leather-bound book, a quill, a bottle of ink, and a smaller parcel within the box. He picked up the book and saw that it was decorated with a pattern of warding runes around the cover. "It's a diary," he said in surprise. He found a note lying inside the box and read it. "Hermione gave me a diary," he explained to his family, "with a warding spell keyed to me so that no one else can open it, and a bottle of invisible ink. She says because I have to hide my true thoughts and feelings from everyone, I might like to have something I can secretly confide in."

"Be careful, Dylan," Ariane warned. "Such spells can be broken."

"I know," he replied. "I won't write down any dangerous secrets in here. But I appreciate the thought behind it. It's hard sometimes, not being able to tell anyone, even my friends, the truth..."

"I'm sorry, dear," Ariane whispered, hugging him. If only she had not set him on the road to becoming a Death Eater, if only she had recognized the danger sooner...

"It's all right, Mother," Dylan said softly, as if reading her mind. "It's not your fault. Professor Snape says the Dark Lord would have come after me sooner or later no matter what."

Ariane sniffled a little and wiped her eyes. "You have another present inside the box, dear."

Dylan unwrapped the smaller parcel, revealing a gray wool scarf just a shade darker than his eyes. It was embroidered on one end with a red rose. Dylan grinned and wrapped it around his neck.

"You look very handsome, Dylan," Ariane said, kissing him on the cheek and feeling slightly less perturbed about the possibility of a Muggle-born daughter-in-law.

"You have to open your presents now," Dylan urged, and settled back to watch his mother and aunt and uncle open their gifts. He had given Uncle Math a book on Welsh folklore and legends; Math knew such tales by heart, but he was still fond of reading and rereading them. For his mother and Aunt Goewin, he had brewed bottles of perfume from rose petals, which had been child's play after the difficult assignments he'd completed for Professor Snape. Both women seemed pleased, especially his mother. He also gave Ariane a silver rose pendant, and Goewin a stuffed teddy bear.

"For the baby," he said with a grin. "My future cousin."

Goewin smiled and hugged him, then continued opening her presents. The next one was a bulky, oddly shaped package. "It's from Remus," she said in a startled voice as she read the tag. "I wonder what it could be?" She tore off the wrapping, and Dylan burst out laughing when he saw what lay beneath it: a big, plush, black toy bunny rabbit that looked almost exactly like the hexed Bane. Dylan was laughing so hard that it took a few minutes before he could get himself under control enough to explain to his puzzled family what was so funny. "You'd better not let Professor Blackmore see that," he added, and began laughing again.

*** 

Snape spent a very pleasant Christmas morning with Lupin, who fixed them mugs of hot cocoa and snuggled up to Snape contentedly as they began opening their presents. Snape supposed it was a bit selfish of him, but he enjoyed having Lupin all to himself, at least for the morning and most of the day--their presence would of course be required at the Yule Ball tonight with the other teachers. There were the usual gifts of obligations from the Slytherin parents, of course--candy and spellbooks and expensive bottles of liquor. There were also the more welcome gifts from their friends. For Snape, there were boxes of sweets from Dumbledore and Professor Kamiyama, and some rare potion ingredients from Branwen. For Lupin, there were the usual tin of inedible cookies from Hagrid; warm, fuzzy striped socks from Dumbledore (Snape rolled his eyes at those); more sweets from Kamiyama and several volumes of manga comic books from his grandchildren; a blue sweater from Molly Weasley (she also sent Snape a green-striped one that he had no more intention of wearing than the one she had given him last year); a new adventure novel Lupin had been wanting to read from Branwen; a box of Canary Creams from Ron and Harry; a hand-knitted scarf in Gryffindor colors from Hermione; and new robes from both Tonks and Sirius.

Lupin joked, "I've gone from shabby, patched robes to being the most well-dressed teacher in the school!" Combined with the robes Snape had given him for Christmas and his birthday over the past few years, Lupin now had quite a respectable wardrobe. The robes from Sirius were a surprisingly practical gift from his impractical friend: heavy, black wool with a waterproofing spell cast on them; very expensive and perfect for winter. The robes from Tonks were a bit more colorful: Gryffindor colors, bright red and gold.

"Well, what do you expect from a woman with violet hair?" Snape muttered, staring at the bright, almost gaudy robes with a look of distaste. "Perhaps she's color-blind."

"Now, now, Severus," Lupin chided. "It's the thought that counts."

"Just please don't wear those in public!"

"My, my, who would have thought you were so fashion-conscious?" Lupin teased. 

"Everyone knows that Gryffindors have no taste," Snape retorted.

"Then what does that say about the fact that I love you?" Lupin asked, smiling at him tenderly.

"I'm sure most people would agree that only proves my point," Snape replied in a wry voice, but he smiled back at Lupin and handed him his own gift.

Lupin opened it, revealing two more robes: one a pale blue, the exact color of Lupin's eyes, and the other a deep golden-brown that nicely set off his fair skin and light brown hair. "Thank you, Severus," he said, kissing his lover. "They're beautiful. And this is for you."

He handed Snape a small box containing a ring shaped like a coiled snake that resembled a smaller version of the copper serpent bracelet he wore on his wrist, an earlier gift from Lupin during their first Christmas together after Lupin had returned to Hogwarts three years ago. Lupin seemed fond of giving him serpent-themed gifts, for some reason. Snape supposed that was Lupin's way of showing that he embraced the Slytherin side of Snape, much as Snape embraced Lupin's inner wolf. Snape did not feel quite so comfortable about the more devious, selfish side to his personality, but he loved Lupin for accepting him as he was, so he cherished Lupin's gifts. He slipped the ring on his finger and said, "Thank you, Remus."

"I know it's probably not safe for you to wear it in public," Lupin said apologetically. "But I wanted to give it to you anyway, because I love you. I don't know, maybe it's a way of convincing myself that someday the war will end and we won't have to hide anymore--"

"It's all right," Snape interrupted with uncharacteristic gentleness. "You don't need to apologize, Remus. I love it. I love you. I'll keep it safe until the day I can wear it openly." He caressed Lupin's face. "That day will come, Remus."

"I hope so, Severus," Lupin whispered.

"It will," Snape promised, and kissed Lupin.

Lupin smiled, trying to shake off his melancholy mood; Severus had seemed so happy this morning, and he didn't want to spoil Christmas for his lover. Then he caught sight of Hermione's present, lying in the corner of the room where Snape had discarded it several days ago. "Sev, you never opened Hermione's present."

"Must I?" Snape sighed.

"Yes, of course you do!" Lupin insisted. "Come on, I want to see what she got you!"

Relieved to see that Lupin seemed to be feeling better, Snape gave in without a fight. "Oh, all right!" he said in a huffy voice that made Lupin grin, and retrieved the present. Lupin's grin actually made him feel grateful towards the girl--not that he would ever tell her that, of course. He tore the package open and a black wool scarf fell out. 

"It's lovely, Severus," Lupin said.

"Well, at least it's black," Snape said gruffly. He firmly told himself that he was not at all touched by the gift. The girl knitted clothes for house-elves, for Merlin's sake, so it wasn't as if it was something special...

"You sound a bit choked up, Severus," Lupin observed with a twinkle in his eyes. "Are you all right?"

Snape cleared his throat and snapped, "You're talking nonsense as usual, Lupin! Of course I'm fine!"

Lupin smiled mischievously, but didn't contradict him. He took the scarf, wrapped it around Snape's neck, and said, "You look so handsome, Severus!"

"Hmmph!" Snape snorted irritably, but preened a little nevertheless. 

"I have two more presents for you," Lupin added. "Here."

Snape opened the present Lupin gave him, which turned out to be a huge box of chocolates. "Thanks. So where's the other present?"

"Right here," Lupin said in a sultry voice, and began to slowly unfasten his robes. A little too slowly for Snape's taste, and he jumped up and began undressing Lupin with considerably more enthusiasm than he'd shown while opening his other Christmas presents. Lupin laughed, "I'm so glad that you're finally showing a little Christmas spirit, Severus!"

"Tis the season, Lupin," Snape said with a wicked grin. 

"And hang onto those chocolates," Lupin said, grinning back at him. "You're the one who told me chocolate is an aphrodisiac, and you need to keep up your strength. We have the whole day ahead of us..."

"And werewolves are insatiable," Snape finished, still grinning.

"Well, I can't speak for all werewolves," Lupin said. "But this one is. And this werewolf would like to spend the entire day making wild, passionate love with you."

"Your wish is my command," Snape said with an extravagant bow. And he dutifully set about fulfilling that wish.

*** 

Meanwhile, Harry, Hermione, Sirius, Tonks, Professor Blackmore, and the Weasleys were enjoying Christmas morning together at Grimmauld Place. Hob was not left out, either. He found a stocking hanging up outside his cupboard door stuffed with sweets, and three gaily wrapped presents from the children lying beneath the stocking. Not clothes, he was relieved to find, because receiving clothes would mean that he would have to leave this house, but peppermint sticks and a huge bar of Honeydukes chocolate and a small clay pipe. (The last was probably from one of the boys, because Hermione disapproved of smoking.) Hob contentedly puffed on his pipe and munched on a peppermint stick as he listened to the sound of laughing children--which was just the sort of noise a hob liked his house to be filled with.

Fred and George gave everyone gag gifts from their shop; Ron and Harry took turns eating Canary Creams and turning briefly into giant canaries until Mrs. Weasley finally shouted at them to stop. Harry gave Ron a poster and biography of his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons; Ron gave Harry a box of Chocolate Frogs. Hermione gave them both Potions textbooks "to help you keep up in Snape's class". 

Harry gave Hermione a book on runes, and Ron gave her a bottle of perfume (she had seemed to like it last year, and he figured he'd stick with a sure thing), and she thanked them profusely for both gifts. Professor Blackmore gave them Summonings textbooks, and Lupin gave them books on lifting curses. Harry and Ron flushed and gave Bane a guilty glance when they opened Lupin's gifts. I

n an attempt to make peace with Bane, they had decided to get him a Christmas present: a big bag of chocolates from Honeydukes. The bird did seem to regard them much less balefully after that, although Blackmore sighed that Bane was getting a little fat. The bird was enormous, but he didn't look any fatter to Harry than he had during the summer, but he wasn't about to argue with Blackmore about it. 

Sirius gave Harry another penknife (one that could magically unlock doors and undo knots) to replace the one he had broken trying to break into the Department of Mysteries, and Tonks gave him a model flying Snitch. Harry thanked her and tossed it back and forth for a little while with Ron and the twins, but playing with the Snitch reminded him uncomfortably of the young and quite full of himself James Potter in Snape's Pensieve memories. Crookshanks began batting at it, and Harry readily surrendered it to the cat for the moment, and watched the others open their presents.

Mrs. Weasley gave everyone sweaters as usual, of course. Percy didn't come for Christmas (he was spending it with his girlfriend Penelope's family), but he didn't send back his Christmas present this year, either. He even sent a Christmas card (all it said was "Best wishes, Percy," but that was an improvement over last year) and a tin of Christmas cookies to his family. "Stuck-up git," Fred muttered, but Mrs. Weasley seemed pleased. Harry didn't much like Percy, but he hoped for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's sake that this was the first step in Percy patching things up with his family.

To Harry's relief, Snape didn't give them any Christmas presents this year, although he and Lupin did give Blackmore a book about tengu (Japanese shapeshifters, Sirius informed Harry when he asked) and a box of chocolates, which was apparently meant more for Bane than for Blackmore; at least the raven seemed to regard the box with a very proprietary air.

To Ron's great displeasure, Dylan Rosier gave Hermione a silver charm bracelet with four tiny silver charms attached to it: a rose, a wand, a book, and a quill. Hermione blushed as she put it on and held it up to be admired. Ginny made a great fuss about how pretty it was; Tonks gently teased Hermione about how popular she must be; Mrs. Weasley said, "How lovely, dear," in an indulgent tone as Ron scowled at her; and Blackmore merely smiled and looked very amused.

"Just like his father," she murmured in a fond tone, and because it was the dreaded Professor Blackmore speaking, Harry and Ron refrained from pointing out that Dylan being "just like his father" was not necessarily a good thing, considering that his father had been a Death Eater.

Finally, Hermione found she had one gift left. "It doesn't say who it's from," she said in a puzzled tone as she looked at the tag, which had only her name on it.

"Ooh, I love a mystery!" Tonks said with a grin.

"Maybe it's from a secret admirer!" Ginny giggled.

"Open the gift, dear," Mrs. Weasley suggested practically. "Perhaps there's a note inside."

Hermione eagerly tore off the wrapping, revealing a textbook on warding spells, but no note. There was no inscription inside the book, either.

"Well, it's obviously not a secret admirer," Ron said with relief. "Nobody in their right mind would consider a textbook a romantic gift!"

"It's a great gift!" Hermione said, sounding a little offended. She flipped through the book enthusiastically. "This is a really great book; it goes beyond the stuff Professor Lupin covered in class. I was thinking of buying it myself, but it's kind of expensive..."

Ron thought to himself, feeling annoyed and amused at the same time, that both he and Rosier were going about things all wrong--the way to Hermione's heart was not through jewelry or perfume, but through textbooks! _I should have known better,_ he told himself ruefully.

"Maybe it's from Professor Lupin," Hermione said. "We were covering warding spells in his class."  "Lupin already gave you a present," Harry pointed out. "That book on curses, just like the ones he gave me and Ron. Besides, I'm not sure he has enough money to go around buying expensive books for his students, even if he is employed again."

"It's not from you, is it, Professor Blackmore?" Hermione asked, a bit timidly.

"No, dear, I gave you the Summonings text, remember?" Her eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to her...but she kept it to herself; it was only a suspicion, after all, and besides, she wanted to see if the girl was clever enough to figure it out on her own.

Meanwhile, Hermione sat there trying to logically puzzle things out. Neither Ginny nor Ron had enough money to buy such an expensive present; Harry did, but he was clearly just as puzzled as she was. Besides, it wasn't the sort of thing her friends would have picked out unless she had hinted about it to them, which she hadn't. It was more the sort of thing an adult would give to a promising young student. Blackmore, Sirius, and Tonks all said it wasn't from them; Lupin was the logical choice, but it would be out of character for him to give her two presents when he had only given the other children one apiece, and besides, why would he leave his name off the tag? Then her eyes widened as she suddenly thought of someone who knew a great deal about magic, who had an appreciation for scholarly texts, who had enough money to buy expensive books, and who most definitely would not want his name on any Christmas tags...

"Did you think of who it might be?" Ginny asked, noticing the expression on her face.

"No," Hermione said innocently, feigning a sigh of disappointment. "I guess it will just have to remain a mystery. But whoever it is, I'm very grateful to them!" 

Since all the presents had been opened, Mrs. Weasley announced that it was time for breakfast. The mention of food (and a promise of waffles from Mrs. Weasley) reminded the boys how hungry they were, and they ran off to the kitchen, forgetting all about the mysterious textbook. Ginny gave Hermione a suspicious look, and Hermione just grinned and gave her an "I'll tell you about it later" look. Branwen let the children run ahead, and stayed behind to clean up the discarded wrapping paper and ribbon--which Bane was currently playing with, gathering bits of bright paper and shiny ribbon as if he were nothing more than an ordinary raven. But when she gave her familiar a closer look, it seemed to her that he looked just a bit smug. 

"Do you know something you're not telling me, Bane?" Branwen asked, scratching him on the head affectionately. 

Bane cocked his head to one side, giving her a look that seemed to say, "Who me?" and helped himself to one of his Christmas chocolates.

*** 

"You look very handsome, Theo," Blaise said a little wistfully as he watched Theodore get ready for the Ball.

Theodore scowled at his reflection in the mirror. He was too tall and thin, and while his hair was black like Blaise's, it always looked coarse and a little unkempt, no matter how recently he'd combed it. Blaise's hair always looked smooth and sleek, while Theodore privately thought to himself that he looked more like Bane going through a bad molt. Too busy worrying about the Death Eaters to bother with a haircut, Theo had let it grow out longer than usual, and it was currently falling over his collar, nearly reaching his shoulders. He wondered if he should cut his hair, but decided it wouldn't make any difference one way or the other. "You need glasses," he told his lover in a grumpy voice.

"I like your robes," Blaise said with a smile, wrapping his arms around Theodore from behind. "They bring out the green in your eyes. I don't get to see you dress up very often." Theodore's dress robes were a very dark green that looked almost black until the light hit them just right. Custom-made and very expensive; his mother was very concerned that he look the part of a proper pureblood heir. Of course, she didn't seem quite as concerned about the fact that Theodore's father liked to test out new curses and hexes on his son on a regular basis. The old man needed to practice on someone, Theodore told himself sourly, until the Death Eaters were allowed to go hunting Muggles and Mudbloods again. But it wasn't really accurate to say that his mother wasn't concerned about him--she was just too scared of his father to do anything about it. After his father was done tormenting him with some particularly nasty and painful curse, his mother would cry and fuss over him and tell him how sorry she was--but by the time he was five, Theodore had figured out that was all she was ever going to do. By the time he was seven, he was heartily sick of her useless sympathy, and from then on spurned all such attempts, hardening his heart to her pleas for forgiveness. By the time he was eight, she had more or less given up trying to comfort him, and seemed to accept her son's contempt as her due.

"Theodore?" Blaise asked, sounding concerned. "Are you all right?"

"I just don't want to go to the Ball," Theodore said sulkily.

"I wouldn't mind going if I could be your date," Blaise said playfully.

"Even if it wouldn't get me into trouble with Malfoy, we'd be laughed out of Slytherin," Theodore said sullenly. 

"I'd risk the scandal for your sake," Blaise said in a joking tone, but he looked a little hurt, and Theodore felt guilty.

"I don't really care what anyone thinks of me," Theodore said apologetically, "but it's just not safe. Malfoy--"

"It's okay, Theo," Blaise said gently, kissing him lightly on the mouth. "I understand. We can celebrate tonight after Ball, just the two of us." He grinned at Theodore. "Save a dance for me?"

"I hate dancing," Theodore groaned.

Blaise laughed and hugged him, and after a moment's hesitation, Theodore hugged him back, clinging to him almost desperately. Although Blaise tried to hide it, he was very concerned about his friend and lover. Ever since the Death Eaters' escape from Azkaban, Theodore had been more remote and sullen than ever. Sometimes, like now, he would cling to Blaise like he was afraid to let go of him, and at other times, it almost seemed like he was trying to push Blaise away from him. But Blaise tried not to feel too hurt by that, because he suspected that Theodore was only trying to protect him. Theodore had never talked much about his family, and Blaise had assumed that was because he was ashamed of his father being a Death Eater. 

But after the prison break, he realized it was much more than that: Theodore was terrified of his father. He had gone so pale when Dylan had told them the news, and ever since then, he'd had frequent nightmares. But what Blaise found odd and rather frightening was that Theodore never screamed during them; in fact he barely made a sound. He would tremble and toss and turn in his sleep, and his face would contort with fear, but only an occasional, barely audible whimper would escape from his lips. A horrified Blaise realized that Theodore had somehow trained himself to have quiet nightmares, and not to scream himself awake no matter how bad they were. He wondered uneasily what Theo's home life was like, that not only did he have such terrible nightmares, but he was afraid to make a sound in his sleep. 

Blaise also learned not to wake him up too suddenly; the first time he'd tried to shake his lover awake during one of the nightmares, Theodore had thrown him out of bed and lunged for his wand--he had actually pointed it at Blaise before fully waking up and realizing where he was and who had woke him. Blaise wasn't sure what spell Theodore would have used, but decided it was better not to find out. From then on, when he felt Theo trembling next to him in his sleep, he would gently kiss and caress him, whispering soothing endearments until Theo stopped shaking, then Blaise would carefully put his arms around his lover and let him drift back into a peaceful slumber. Theodore usually didn't even wake up during the process; when he did, he always looked anxious and embarrassed, and would absolutely refuse to tell Blaise what the nightmares were about.

Blaise had his suspicions. Lately he had realized, for all that they were best friends and lovers, that he actually knew very little about Theodore. He didn't know what the nightmares were about. He knew that Theo was one of the few students able to see the Thestrals, but he didn't know whose death Theodore had witnessed, and Theodore refused to tell him. 

And...Blaise didn't know what had happened to himself on Halloween. He remembered leaving for Hogsmeade, but everything after that was a blur. Snape and Madam Pomfrey had told him he'd had a fever; Snape's eyes had been expressionless as they often were, but there had been something in Pomfrey's eyes that told him there was more to it than that. And Theodore had been watching over him very carefully and nervously since then, warning him not to go anywhere alone with Malfoy, though (of course) he wouldn't say why. 

Not only that, but a couple of days after his Halloween illness, Blaise noticed a burn on Theodore's wrist; he had been trying to conceal it, but that was difficult to do when they shared a room and were lovers. He'd been wondering why Theodore was suddenly so reluctant to get undressed around him, and finally caught him applying salve to the burn on his wrist, which looked suspiciously like a handprint. Theo had claimed that it was a minor hex, a stupid prank, nothing to worry about. 

But Blaise did worry--about Theo's burn and his fear of his father, about the Death Eaters' return, about the fact that Draco was suddenly being very friendly to Blaise when he had always been beneath Draco's notice before, and most of all, about the gap in his memory--which reminded him uncomfortably of the "accident" that had befallen Professor Lockhart. Blaise had the sneaking suspicion that all of these things were somehow related, but no amount of coaxing, arguing, or even begging would persuade Theo to shed any light on the subject. "It's safer for you not to know," was all Theodore would say.

Theodore had missed out on their last Hogsmeade trip because Snape had given him detention for spilling his potion in class; which was odd because Snape rarely gave the Slytherins detention for things like that, but Theo claimed that Snape had been in a bad mood because the Gryffindors had been unusually well-behaved, giving him few opportunities to dock points or give out detention to them. In any case, Theodore had seemed almost relieved to stay behind, and insisted that Blaise stay behind as well, which he was more than willing to do, although he wished Theo would tell him exactly what was going on.

Still, since Slytherin had won the match over Gryffindor, Theodore had been more cheerful than usual, and things almost went back to normal. But as the holidays approached, he started to brood again. Snape sent out letters to the parents urging them to leave their children at Hogwarts over the holidays "for their own safety," and Theodore had been adamant that Blaise stay back with him. Blaise had been pleased that they'd be able to spend the holidays together, but then he noticed that Theodore and a few other select members of Slytherin were sneaking off to Snape's office for "special tutoring". "To prepare for our N.E.W.T.s," Theodore claimed, but it didn't escape Blaise's notice that all the students Snape was tutoring were the children of Death Eaters.

"Just what is Snape tutoring you in?" Blaise asked quietly, even though he knew Theodore wouldn't give him a straight answer.

Theodore let go of him and scowled. "I told you, he's helping us prepare for our Potions N.E.W.T.!" 

"I'm not stupid, Theo," Blaise retorted, "and I don't think he's teaching you anything that's covered in any official exams! He's tutoring you in the Dark Arts, isn't he--?"

"Shut up!" Theodore hissed. "How many times have I told you that it's not safe to talk about--"

"I don't care!" Blaise shouted. "I'm worried about you!"

"You should stay away from me," Theodore said, now looking more despairing than angry. "It's not safe to be with me. You should have let the Sorting Hat put you in Ravenclaw."

"Too late for that now," Blaise said, wrapping his arms around Theodore again. "And I told you before, I won't leave you, no matter how dangerous it is! I love you, Theo!"

"I love you, too," Theodore whispered. "That's why you have to trust me; I only want to keep you safe. You don't know what the Death Eaters are like...as bad as you think they are, as bad as the Daily Prophet makes them out to be, the reality is a hundred times worse."

This was more than Theodore had ever confided in him before. "So why are you letting Snape tutor you in the Dark Arts?" Blaise asked quietly. "I know you don't want to be like them..."

Theodore just stared at him for a very long time; he seemed to be trying to make up his mind about how much he should tell Blaise. Blaise waited anxiously, afraid to say anything for fear of breaking the mood and sending Theo back into an uncommunicative silence. Finally, Theodore said, "Snape's all right."

"Are you sure?" Blaise asked skeptically. "Isn't he, well, one of them...?"

"Do you trust me, Blaise?" Theodore asked, his murky green eyes very solemn.

"Yes," Blaise replied without hesitation. As frustrated as he got with Theodore's stubborn silence at times, he knew that Theo was only trying to protect him.

"Then believe me when I say he's all right. I can't say anything more, but..." Theodore hesitated. "If...if anything bad happens, and I'm...not around...go to Snape, okay?"

When Theodore said "not around," Blaise had the sinking feeling that he was talking about something permanent and possibly fatal. "You're scaring me, Theo," he whispered.

"Good," Theodore said grimly. "You should be scared. Fear is a self-defense mechanism. It's supposed to keep you from doing stupid things that will get you killed. Like talking too freely about...You-Know-Who and his followers."

"I trust you, Theo, but Snape...?"

"Who else is going to look out for a Slytherin?" Theodore asked bitterly. "The Headmaster?"

"Well..."

"All he cares about are his precious Gryffindors!"

"I'm not sure that he--"

"People like him only care about the big picture!" Theodore insisted. "People like you and me, we're expendable! He might shed a tear or two afterwards, but he wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice the likes of us if he thought it would help him win the war!"

Blaise was more open-minded than most Slytherins, but distrust for Gryffindor had been ingrained in him by his family as it had been in most of his housemates. And he knew that most outsiders considered "Slytherin" synonymous with "Death Eater". He wasn't sure if Dumbledore was one of those people, but perhaps it was better to be safe than sorry. "Well, what about Lupin or Blackmore? They've treated us fairly and haven't favored the other Houses."

Theodore frowned thoughtfully. "Blackmore is a fair teacher, true enough, but she used to be an Auror," he said slowly. "She killed people during the war." Comrades of Theodore's father, were the unspoken words that neither boy wanted to say aloud. "I wouldn't trust her...not unless there were no other choice." 

Theodore added that last remark only because he knew that if things got bad enough, there might be no other choice. If for some reason Theodore and Snape were not able to protect Blaise, then he would rather Blaise go to Blackmore than the Headmaster, because despite having been an Auror and having slain Death Eaters, she still had Slytherin blood, and if even a fraction of the rumors were true, came from a long line of Dark Wizards. She might, just possibly, have some sympathy for a Slytherin child in need. As for Lupin...

"I think Lupin would try to help you if you were in trouble," Theodore said. "But I'm not sure how effective he'd be. He's a good mage, but one mage alone can't stand against...those people we were talking about."

"Snape is only one man himself," Blaise pointed out. "What makes him a better protector than Lupin?"

Theodore scowled. "Isn't it obvious? Snape has influence among...the people that matter. Lupin has none. My father's...friends...might listen to Snape, but they certainly won't listen to Lupin. And Lupin's a werewolf, just barely tolerated in society. Say he attacked a supposedly upstanding citizen to protect you or me--who do you think the Ministry would listen to? Who do you think they'd punish?"

Blaise went cold with fear; if he had been scared before, he was utterly terrified now. He knew Theodore was right; the Ministry had not believed Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater until they had caught him red-handed leading an attack on the Ministry of Magic. Even now, as a fugitive on the run, he wielded enough power that everyone in Slytherin was afraid to offend his son. What chance did one unimportant, softhearted werewolf have against people like that? Likely all they would accomplish by going to Lupin would be to get him in trouble as well--maybe even killed. "Theodore," Blaise whispered.

But before he could say anything else, there was a loud knock at the door, and both boys jumped. "Come on, Nott!" Draco called out cheerfully. "Let's not keep the ladies waiting!"

Theodore's face settled back in its normal sullen expression, and he opened the door without another word to Blaise. "Fine," he said sulkily. "Let's go." He and Blaise fell in step behind Draco, along with Crabbe and Goyle.

"You look like you're going to your own funeral, Nott," Draco said lightly. "I know Millicent probably isn't your idea of a dream date, but try and have a little fun."

"Yes, Draco," Theodore said gloomily.

"At least you _have_ a date," Crabbe told Theodore in a surly voice. He and Goyle were dateless, as usual.

Draco seemed to be the only one in a good mood. "What about you, Zabini--couldn't find a date, either? You should have told me, maybe I could have fixed you up."

Blaise just smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, Draco, but I don't think there are many girls who would want me for a date." He indicated his black dress robes, which were slightly faded and several years out of date; Draco, of course, was dressed in brand-new, very stylish black velvet robes. Blaise didn't have to say, because everyone in Slytherin knew, that while he came from an old pureblood family, they had no money and therefore, no influence.

Draco grinned at Blaise in a sly and conspiratorial way. "Stick with me, Zabini, and you'll be moving up in the world fast enough. Play your cards right, and you'll have girls flinging themselves at your feet. And more than girls--money, power, influence."

Blaise gave Draco what he hoped was a properly fawning smile, but inside he was more afraid than ever.

*** 

Pansy and Millicent met their dates in the common room, and all the boys' jaws dropped open. "Wow, you look great, Parkinson!" Draco blurted out, and Pansy smiled smugly at the sincere if rather inelegant compliment. Her new haircut suited her well, and following Parvati's advice, she wore an off-the-shoulder red velvet gown that clung to her torso then flared slightly at the waist, falling to the floor in loose folds. It was low-cut enough to show a hint of cleavage (or "decolletage" as Parvati preferred to say), but not low-cut enough to be improper. A pair of small ruby earrings (borrowed from her mother) and a bit of red velvet ribbon tied around her throat like a choker completed the picture.

Millicent wore her braids--woven through with gold ribbons--up in that coronet style, held in place by a few hairpins topped with glittering green stones. Her robes were green velvet with a bit of gold trim--a simple, almost severe style with long sleeves and a high neck, but it suited her. She looked like a queen, Parvati and Lavender told her, but Millicent wasn't sure she believed them until she saw the boys' reactions. "You look...nice," was all Theodore said, but he looked mildly impressed, if in a slightly detached way. Crabbe and Goyle were outright gawping at her, and even Draco gave her an appreciative glance before turning his attention back to Pansy. Blaise smiled politely and said, "You both look very nice."

Damien Pierce walked into the room accompanied by his date, a pretty--if slightly feather-headed--blonde Slytherin yearmate named Yvonne. His jaw dropped open like the other boys' and all the normally loquacious (and most flirtatious) boy in Slytherin could say was, "Wow!" Yvonne glared at him, and when that had no effect, elbowed him none too gently in the side, and he blinked and closed his mouth. He made a quick recovery, smiled at his date, and said gallantly, "My, don't all of you Slytherin ladies look lovely this evening?"

The girls giggled, and Draco offered his arm to Pansy, saying, "Shall we?" She smiled and laid her hand on his arm. Theodore offered his arm to Millicent, although with less enthusiasm, and they all headed for the Great Hall.

The teachers were dressed festively and looked cheerful, except of course for Snape, who, as usual, was dressed in black and had a sour expression on his face. Even Blackmore got into the holiday spirit, wearing a wreath of tinsel on her head, and had hung a tinsel garland around Bane's neck. 

After dinner, the dancing began. Pansy was enjoying herself; Draco was a good dancer and was being a properly attentive date, even if his favorite topic of conversation was himself. Millicent was not having quite so good a time. She was dancing with Theodore, who moved a bit stiffly but at least managed to avoid stepping on her feet, but he obviously would rather be anywhere than at the Ball.

To occupy herself, she turned her attention away from her unwilling partner and scanned the dance floor. Lavender was dancing with Seamus Finnigan, and Parvati with Dean Thomas. Millicent noted that she was not the only one with a less than enthusiastic escort; Thomas seemed to be paying more attention to Ginny Weasley than his own date, much to Parvati's obvious displeasure. Ginny seemed oblivious, and appeared to be having a good time dancing with Harry Potter. Potter's little sidekick Weasley was dancing--rather ineptly--with Hermione Granger.

"Oops, sorry about that," Weasley said, flushing, as he trod on Granger's foot--obviously not the first time he had done so.

Granger winced, but smiled and said, "It's okay, Ron. Just relax. We're here to have fun, remember?"

Damien Pierce waltzed by with Yvonne, and his smile was beginning to look a little forced and his eyes a little glazed, probably because she was babbling nonstop about Dylan Rosier. Millicent loved gossiping about Dylan, too, but she had enough sense and manners not to do so in front of her date--although Theodore probably wouldn't care. Then, to her surprise, Millicent saw Serafina Avery go up to Blaise Zabini and ask him something--for a dance, apparently, because he looked startled, then smiled and led her out onto the dance floor. Millicent was shocked that Serafina had shown up in the first place, and even more shocked that she was actually dancing; she hadn't bothered to dress up for the Ball, wearing a very plain black robe, and she looked about as happy to be there as Theodore and Snape did. Perhaps her mother had forced her to come, although House gossip had it that Serafina paid little heed to her parents' wishes. 

Then Millicent got yet another shock as she glanced up at her date; Theodore was staring at Blaise and Serafina with a look of surprise and jealousy on his face. Hmm...perhaps Nott did like girls, after all. Everyone assumed that Nott and Avery would eventually be paired off by their parents, although the two had never seemed to be particularly fond of each other. But perhaps he had taken her for granted, as boys often did. Or perhaps he wasn't fond of her, but just didn't like the thought of anyone, even his friend, poaching on his future bride. 

Unless...could it be Blaise who was the object of his affections and not Serafina? But honestly, Millicent couldn't picture either of the two--quiet, studious Zabini or strange, emotionless Avery--inspiring feelings of passion in anyone. She looked up at Theodore again, and his face was once more fixed in its usual sullen, remote look, and she wondered if she had imagined the whole thing...

*** 

Blaise was sitting with his fellow dateless housemates, Crabbe and Goyle, watching the dance floor and wishing that he could be dancing with Theodore instead of Millicent. Not that he blamed her, of course; in fact, he felt rather sorry for her, because Theodore wasn't bothering to hide the fact that he'd been drafted into being her date. Draco had insisted on fixing her up with one his inner crowd, which was a pity, because she would probably be having more fun with someone who actually wanted to be there. And she looked surprisingly nice tonight, although the effect was totally wasted on Theodore. She wasn't exactly pretty, but the braids and the new robe looked quite impressive on her--not so much the fairy tale princess look most of the girls were trying for, but more like a Valkyrie or Celtic warrior queen, perhaps.

He saw Parvati and Lavender look at Millicent and Pansy in a rather smug way, and he wondered if they'd had anything to do with the Slytherin girls' dramatic makeover; they had been surprisingly friendly ever since Blackmore had grouped them together for the Summonings project. They had tried to keep it low-key, but Blaise had still thought Draco would have a fit, but instead he had taken advantage of it by arranging the rose giveaway for Slytherin's Quidditch match against Gryffindor.

"Blaise?" a soft voice said, breaking his train of thought.

"Oh, hello, Serafina," Blaise said politely, looking up with a start. He was surprised that she had bothered to come to the Ball; she had come alone, and looked less than thrilled to be here.

"Would you like to dance with me?" Serafina asked, her voice and face expressionless as always. Crabbe and Goyle stared at her in shock, their jaws hanging open.

Blaise realized that he was doing the same thing and quickly closed his mouth. "Uh, sure," he replied. He rose to his feet and held out his hand; she took it, and he led her out onto the dance floor. They began dancing, a little awkwardly, since neither of them had much practice at it, and Blaise said, "I, um, didn't think you'd be here tonight. I mean, this doesn't really seem like your sort of thing..."

"It's not," she replied glumly. "I was going to skip it, but my mother insisted I go. So I thought I'd just stay for dinner and then leave, but she made me promise that I'd dance at least once, so here I am. Thanks, by the way. For helping me keep my promise."

"No problem," Blaise replied, still in shock. Serafina had just said more to him right now than she'd said to him all last year, and he would have thought that a girl capable of hexing her own father would have no qualms about disobeying her mother's orders to attend a school dance.

He was too polite to voice these thoughts out loud, but they must have shown in his eyes, because Serafina explained, "My mother's going through a hard time right now. Going to a stupid dance isn't such a big deal if it makes her feel better." Then she flushed, looking a little embarrassed, perhaps at having revealed a rare hint of emotion. "Actually, I would have asked Theo to go with me, but Draco had already set him up with Millicent."

"Theo doesn't want to be here anymore than you do," Blaise said with a smile. 

"Yes, I can tell," Serafina said in a dry voice, and to Blaise's surprise, she almost smiled. "I almost feel sorry for Millicent." Then her expression turned serious, and she whispered in a voice soft enough that the other dancers wouldn't overhear, "Please look out for Theo, Blaise."

He stared at her in shock, causing Serafina to stumble when he suddenly forgot to move. He quickly resumed dancing and whispered back, "I'll try. But I'm not really sure what I can do."

Serafina gave him a sad little smile. "Neither am I."

Blaise was very curious about her uncharacteristic behavior, and he wondered if he could glean some information from her. "I didn't think that you and Theodore were close," he said cautiously.

"We're not," Serafina replied. "But he was always nice to me when we were little; at least, he never made fun of me the way the other kids did. He's not a bad person." Her eyes flickered over in Draco's direction, and she lowered her voice. "At least when he's not hanging around with Malfoy."

"He's not a bad person at all," Blaise whispered firmly, aware that this conversation was taking a rather dangerous turn. But this might be the only chance he would ever have to talk to her; even if he could catch her alone in the Slytherin dorm, who knew when she would be in such a garrulous (for her, anyway) mood again? "He just knows it isn't wise to offend Draco."

"I know," Serafina said softly. 

"How can I help him, Serafina?" Blaise whispered. Fortunately Draco was on the other side of the dance floor, out of earshot, and while he looked surprised to see Blaise dancing with Serafina, he didn't look suspicious. In fact, he grinned and gave Blaise a thumbs-up. Theodore flashed him a quick, sour look before turning his attention back to Millicent.

"I don't know, Blaise," Serafina replied. "If I did, I would do it myself." For just a moment, her expressionless mask slipped, and she looked sad and frightened and despairing, all at the same time, before she regained her composure a few seconds later.

"What about you, Sera?" Blaise asked, and she looked startled at hearing him use her childish nickname. "Who's going to look out for you?"

"I can look after myself," she said firmly.

Blaise knew that wasn't true; if it was, she wouldn't have looked so frightened, and she wouldn't be asking him to watch out for Theo. It scared him that both Serafina and Theodore were suddenly so worried; everyone knew that the Dark Lord was back and that war would come eventually, but he suspected they knew something more specific than that--something that would cause Serafina to break her usual silence, something that would make Theo tell Blaise to go to Snape for help if "anything bad" happened.

But while he was trying to think of a safe way to ask her what that something might be, the song ended. Serafina curtsied to him, said, "Thank you for the dance, Blaise," and left the dance floor. She moved at a quick walk, not a run, but she deftly threaded her way through the other dancers and vanished before Blaise could catch up to her. He heaved a sigh of disappointment and headed for the refreshments table, where bowls of punch and pumpkin juice had been set out.

He had just ladled out a cup of punch for himself when Damien showed up. "Hey, you were dancing with Avery!" Damien exclaimed. "What's up with that?"

Blaise shrugged. "No big deal; she promised her mother she'd come to the Ball and stay for at least one dance. She kept her promise and left. She didn't really want to come in the first place. Neither did Theo."

Damien laughed and gave him a sly grin. "Yeah, because he couldn't take his first choice for a date! But Millicent looks pretty good--who'd have thought she could look so, well..." He paused, trying to think of the right word.

"Elegant?" Blaise suggesting. "Regal?"

"Yeah," Damien agreed. "Pansy, too. Maybe the Gryffindor girls' fashion sense rubbed off on them or something." He stared a little wistfully at Parvati and Lavender, who were still dancing with their dates.

"Yvonne looks nice," Blaise said. "Not as stunning as Parvati, maybe, but she's pretty enough. Aren't you having a good time?"

Damien made a face. "Not really. I think she only agreed to go with me so she could ask me to fix her up with Dylan!" Blaise laughed, and Damien joined in, laughing good-naturedly. "Well, I knew she wasn't really interested in me. I'd rather have asked out one of the Patil sisters, or maybe Ginny Weasley, but then I'd be in hot water with Malfoy."

"Maybe you could cut in on Theo," Blaise suggested with a mischievous grin. "I think both Theo and Millicent would thank you for it!"

"Hmm, maybe I will," Damien said with a speculative look in his eyes. But just then, Miles Bletchley walked up and tapped Theodore on the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked.

"Not at all," Theodore said in relief, relinquishing Millicent to him. Millicent looked startled but not displeased. Bletchley was no Dylan Rosier, but he was a seventh-year and the Keeper of the Slytherin Quidditch team, so she still felt flattered that he wanted to dance with her. And on the plus side, he was tall and muscular enough that she looked almost dainty beside him. Well, maybe not dainty, but normal at least; she felt like a troll next to some of her scrawnier male classmates. She beamed at him, and he grinned back at her, looking pleased and flattered himself, and they began to dance. Maybe the Ball would turn out to be fun after all...

Theodore joined his friends at the refreshments table. "Why were you dancing with Sera?" he demanded of Blaise. 

"Not jealous, are you?" Damien asked with a grin. Blaise kicked him in the shin and shot him a quelling look.

"She promised her mother that she'd go to the Ball and dance," Blaise replied calmly. "She fulfilled her word to the letter and left. She didn't want to come in the first place; she was just humoring her mum." He decided not to mention Serafina's warning, at least, not yet. It wouldn't be safe to discuss it in public, anyway.

"Oh," Theodore said sheepishly, and gave Blaise an apologetic smile. "I should've known." He turned to Damien. "What happened to your date?"

"She's off powdering her nose or something," he replied, sounding unconcerned. "All she wants to do is talk about Dylan, anyway, and ask if he's seeing anyone and whether he might be interested in her..."

Theodore laughed. "So the Ball is a bust for you, too." He saw Draco and Pansy leave the dance floor and slip out into the garden. "Malfoy and Parkinson seem to be having a good time, though." 

"The teachers seem to be having a good time, too," Damien observed. Most of them took at least one turn on the dance floor; Dumbledore was currently dancing with Professor McGonagall, Hagrid was dancing with Madam Pomfrey, and Professor Blackmore, of all people, was dancing with Lupin! She was laughing and smiling up at him, looking quite pretty and girlish, and not at all demonic. "I can't believe it!" Damien exclaimed at that unexpected sight.

Blaise grinned. "Well, she did dance with Dylan's father when he was a student here. So I suppose she does like to relax a little when she's not terrorizing her students."

"Hmm, do you think there's anything going on between her and Lupin?" Damien wondered.

"A werewolf and a demon," Theodore observed darkly. "A perfect match."

Blaise laughed. "Well, Lupin's the nicest werewolf I've ever met!"

"The only werewolf you've ever met," Theodore pointed out, but he smiled a little.

"And it's only a rumor about the Blackmores having demon blood," Blaise continued. "You don't know that it's true."

"It must be!" Damien insisted. "No normal person could be that scary! Even Snape seems a little scared of her." He watched her dance with Lupin and added, "She's awfully pretty for a demon, though."

Theodore grinned, a little wickedly. "Demons can take the forms of beautiful men and women, in order to seduce human victims. But if you find her that attractive, why don't you go up and ask her for a dance, like Dylan's dad?"

Damien shook his head vigorously. "I'm not that brave!"

The boys all laughed. When the song ended, Blackmore curtsied to Lupin, who bowed to her, then they returned to the head table.

*** 

"Will you dance with me, Severus?" Branwen asked, mischief sparkling in her green eyes.

Snape just crossed his arms and scowled at her. "You've got to be kidding," he said.

"I'm dead serious," she laughed, and his scowl grew even fiercer. "Oh, come on, Severus," she cajoled. "For old time's sake."

"No," he said stubbornly, settling back more firmly in his chair. But Branwen reached out and grasped one of his hands as Lupin accidentally-on-purpose bumped into Snape's chair while making his way back to his own seat, tipping the chair and knocking Snape off balance just long enough for Branwen to pull him out of his seat and drag him onto the dance floor.

"I'm going to kill you," Snape growled into her ear, even as he gave in to the inevitable and put his arm around her waist and reluctantly went through the steps of the dance.

"You're welcome to try, Severus," Branwen replied cheerfully.

"You're making a spectacle of us," Snape pointed out sourly, as the students all stared at them. "How am I supposed to explain this when word gets out?"

"You're cultivating me," she said smoothly, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Trying to win me over and gain information. I may be demonic, but I have a soft spot for my former students. You're just taking advantage of that."

"Not bad," he muttered in an equally soft voice. "Though it's still dangerous. You know the school will be gossiping about this for weeks. You're behaving almost like a Gryffindor."

"I wanted to dance with my two favorite students this Christmas night," she murmured with a smile. "And by the way, Severus, speaking of gossip--do you realize while we're talking like this, it looks like we're whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears?"

Horrified, he jerked away from her, and held her as far away from him as he could, dancing almost literally at arm's length. She laughed merrily, and he scowled at her.

*** 

"Okay, so which one is she interested in?" Damien wondered. "Snape or Lupin?"

"Snape's a better match for her," Theodore said. "They're the two scariest teachers in the school. Lupin's too nice; werewolf or not, she'd eat him alive."

"Funny, though," Blaise said thoughtfully. "Lupin doesn't seem to be scared of her the way Snape is."

That might have something to do with the fact that Snape had once been one of the Death Eaters Blackmore had hunted down as an Auror while Lupin had not, but Theodore knew it wasn't safe to voice such a thought out loud. And just then, Parvati Patil stalked over to the refreshments table, looking quite cross, distracting the boys from their conversation.

Damien instantly snapped to attention, the way he did whenever a pretty girl crossed his path. "Can I get you some punch, Parvati?" he offered.

She smiled at him, looking a little less vexed, and replied, "Why, thank you, Damien. That would be very nice." He handed her a cup and she added, "You're very considerate. Unlike some other people I could mention." She glared at Dean Thomas, who seemed to be trying to cut in on Potter and Ginny Weasley. Potter looked nervous, but Ginny gave Dean what seemed to be a firm rebuke, and he sulkily retreated back to his table.

"What a fool Thomas is," Damien said scornfully, "not to notice that he already had the most beautiful girl in the school by his side!" Parvati beamed at him. "You're looking so lovely, tonight, Parvati. That dress suits you perfectly." And indeed, her robes of flame-colored satin nicely set off her dusky skin.

Parvati blushed and fluttered her eyelashes at him. "You're too kind, Damien."

"I'm only speaking the truth," he said, practically oozing sincerity. Theodore was glaring at him, but he ignored it.

"Where's your date?" Parvati asked.

"Alas, I too, seem to have been abandoned," Damien replied in a tone of dramatic woe.

Parvati giggled. "Would you like to dance, then?"

"I would love to, milady."

"Are you crazy?" Theodore hissed into Damien's ear. "What will Malfoy say?"

"Malfoy's out canoodling with Pansy in the rose bushes," Damien replied with blithe unconcern. "He won't notice." He swept Parvati off onto the dance floor before Theodore could stop him.

"Idiot!" Theodore fumed. "Does he think word won't get back to Malfoy? I swear, it's like his brain shuts off whenever there's a pretty girl around!"

"That's typical of most boys our age," Blaise pointed out.

"A Slytherin needs to be smarter than that," Theodore growled.

"Maybe no one will notice," Blaise said hopefully. "Everyone's still staring at Snape and Blackmore."

"Maybe," Theodore said doubtfully.

When the current song ended, Snape disentangled himself from Blackmore as fast as he possibly could and stalked off into the garden.

"Uh-oh," Theodore said. "He's really in a bad mood now; he'll be blasting rose bushes apart like he did the last time. Maybe we should go warn Malfoy."

"Snape's not going to give Malfoy detention," Blaise said, unconcerned.

"I suppose not," Theodore agreed. 

A few couples soon ran back into the Great Hall, looking pale and slightly disheveled; one of the girls had leaves in her hair. Draco and Pansy sauntered back in at a more casual pace, smiling; Blaise had obviously been right. Draco scowled when he saw Damien dancing with Parvati. "What the hell is Pierce doing?" he demanded.

Theodore shot Blaise an "I told you so" look. Blaise, thinking quickly, said, "Pissing off the Gryffindor boys by stealing the most popular girl in Gryffindor right from under their noses!" Draco blinked, looking startled and less angry, so Blaise hastily continued, "They're already upset that their girls like Dylan. They're going to be utterly humiliated when the whole school can see that the Gryffindor girls prefer Slytherin boys to their own housemates!"

Draco snickered maliciously. "Heh, that's true!" He saw the stunned and outraged looks on most of the Gryffindor boys' faces and looked even more pleased, to Blaise's relief. "Serves 'em right," Draco said. "But tell Pierce not to get too carried away. Dancing at the Ball is one thing, but it wouldn't be right for one of us to be going out with one of them."

"Yes, Draco," Blaise said meekly. Draco, his good mood restored, drank some punch and headed back onto the dance floor with Pansy.

"Good recovery," Theodore whispered. "I'm impressed."

Blaise smirked. "I told you Slytherin is the House for me."

Theodore smiled, although a hint of worry crept back into his eyes. "I guess you're too devious to be a Ravenclaw, after all." He glanced at Millicent, who still seemed to be happily occupied with Bletchley. "I think it's safe to sneak off now. I don't think Millicent will miss me."

"You should still say goodnight to her," Blaise insisted. "That would be the proper thing to do." Theodore rolled his eyes. "Just say you're not feeling well or something. Bletchley will think you're just being polite and ceding ground to him because he's a seventh-year."

"Slytherins aren't supposed to be polite," Theodore grumbled, although that wasn't quite true. They were polite, but only to the people that mattered, people in a position to do them favors--or cause them harm. Still, Theodore went off to make his excuses, and Blaise whispered that he'd meet him back at their room.

"Sorry, Millicent," he said. "I'm not feeling well; I think I'd better call it a night." He turned to Bletchley. "You'll look after her, won't you?"

"No problem, Nott," Bletchley said in a magnanimous tone.

"Goodnight, Theodore," Millicent said cheerfully, and the pair continued dancing without a backwards glance at Theodore, who shrugged and hurried off to meet Blaise.

"Hope you're not disappointed," Bletchley said.

"Not at all," Millicent replied. "Theodore's not interested in me, anyway."

"The more fool he," Bletchley said gallantly.

"I didn't know you had such a way with words, Miles!" Millicent laughed, and he grinned at her. Feeling more generous now that she had a much more satisfactory escort, Millicent added, "Well, everyone knows that Theodore's parents intend to match him up with Serafina one day, anyway."

"Poor Nott," Bletchley said, then dismissed the matter from his mind. He gazed out at the garden and said, "I wonder if Snape's still blasting apart rose bushes..."

*** 

Harry was having a great time. He was much more relaxed around Ginny than he had been with Cho, and although he wasn't a good dancer, Ginny was, and kept him from looking too inept. She was able to direct him without being obvious about it, with a gentle push on his shoulder or tug on his hand, and he pretty much just followed her lead and tried to avoid stepping on her feet. They laughed and joked and talked, about nothing much in particular, about Quidditch and their classes and teachers. While the other students stared in shock as Blackmore dragged Snape onto the dance floor, Harry and Ginny laughed, sharing a conspiratorial look. But then his good mood was interrupted when Dean Thomas came up and said, "Mind if I cut in, Harry?"

Startled, Harry looked around for Parvati, and saw her stalking off in a huff. "Well...um...er..."

"Yes," said Ginny firmly, "he does mind."

"Well, I, uh..." Harry stammered.

"And I mind," Ginny added, just as firmly.

"Oh, come on, Ginny," Dean said. "Just one dance. Look, I'm sorry about before, about that stupid fight we had over Rosier--"

"If you want to apologize to me," Ginny said, not looking very forgiving, "do it later. You're being rude, to Harry and to Parvati. You should be dancing with your date, not me."

"I only asked her because Seamus suggested it, since he was taking Lavender," Dean said sulkily, "and I didn't have anyone else to go with. I'm not interested in her, if that's what you're thinking."

"First of all," Ginny said angrily, "Parvati already asked me if I would mind if she went to the Ball with you, and I told her it was fine with me." Dean looked surprised and a little offended to hear that. "Second, you're missing the point. It doesn't matter if you're interested in Parvati or not; you asked her to the Ball, so you should be paying attention to her instead of going off and asking other girls to dance with you." She danced Harry off in another direction, away from Dean, and Harry gave his friend a sympathetic look and helpless shrug. Dean didn't go after Parvati, but went back to his table and moped.

"I feel a little sorry for him," Harry ventured timidly.

"Don't," Ginny said. Then she sighed a little and said, "He's a nice guy, but he has a lot of growing up to do. I can't stand being with someone that possessive. I want to be with someone who trusts me and has faith in me. Someone who won't be threatened every time another guy smiles at me."

Harry smiled a little. "It's easy to be jealous of Dylan Rosier."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, Dylan's very handsome and charming, but he's a little too aware of it, if you know what I mean. I'd rather be with someone who's not quite so smooth."

For some reason, that statement cheered Harry up considerably, although he had never been particularly jealous of Dylan. Then, to his surprise, he saw Parvati step onto the dance floor with Damien Pierce. Harry heard a few mutters of outrage from some of the Gryffindor boys, but Ginny grinned and said, "Good for her! She's not going to sit in a corner and feel sorry for herself!" Harry was thinking that perhaps Parvati could cheer herself up with a boy who wasn't from Slytherin, but looked at Ginny's smiling face, and decided to keep that comment to himself. He knew it would only start an argument, and he wanted to enjoy the rest of the Ball. Then he grinned to himself, thinking, _Snape ought to be proud of me! I'm actually thinking before I act!_

Meanwhile, the Potions Master hurried off the dance floor as soon as the song was over, and stormed off into the garden, no doubt to vent his rage on some amorous students. Blackmore started back towards the head table, but Hagrid stopped her and asked for a dance; she smiled and consented. Bane watched them carefully from the head table, and although he had not objected when she had danced with Lupin or Snape, he seemed to take offense when Hagrid put his arm around the Incantations teacher's waist, and pull her just a little closer than was proper. Bane flew over and pecked Hagrid's hand sharply, hard enough to raise a drop of blood. Hagrid yelped and glared at the raven as he clutched at his wounded hand.

"Bad raven," Blackmore scolded, but there seemed to be a hint of amusement in her eyes and voice. Bane cawed in a defiant, unrepentant tone. "Sorry, Hagrid," Blackmore apologized. "Bane is a bit overprotective, sometimes."

"Here, why don't you come up to the hospital wing and I'll give you some salve for that?" Madam Pomfrey suggested.

"Never mind," Hagrid muttered gruffly. "I'm fine." But Pomfrey insisted, and he followed her out of the room.

Blackmore returned to the head table, and Harry overheard Damien Pierce snicker, "Serves him right!" 

Harry glared at him, and Ginny said, "That's not very nice."

Damien just grinned at her. "I'm a Slytherin," he retorted. "I'm not supposed to be nice."

Parvati giggled. "Well, I think you're very nice!" she said.

"You'll ruin my reputation," Damien replied, and Parvati giggled again. "Well, maybe it wasn't very nice, but I think it's only his just dues, after all the times we've been bitten in his classes!" Damien and Parvati laughed, ignoring Harry's and Ginny's looks of disapproval, and continued dancing.

"Slytherins," Harry muttered.

"He's not so bad for a Slytherin," Ginny said. "Most of the time, anyway. And at least Parvati's having a good time after being abandoned." Harry wasn't sure he agreed, but decided not to argue the point, at least, not right now. And he felt a bit guilty about having abandoned Parvati himself during his first Yule Ball, although she had found a Beauxbatons boy to keep her entertained, and had not seemed to suffer overmuch. 

"I suppose so," Harry said in a noncommittal voice, and Ginny smiled warmly at him.

"I know you don't care much for the Slytherins, Harry," she said, "but I'm glad that you're able to be mature about it." And suddenly Harry felt very glad that he'd managed to hold his tongue. He smiled back at her, and decided to forget about Slytherin for the rest of the evening and enjoy the rest of the Ball.

After several dances, they returned to their table to rest, along with Ron and Hermione. Luna Lovegood came up to their table; she was dressed in green robes that were surprisingly flattering (considering her normal unusual appearance), and she wore a wreath of holly on her head, and two small Christmas ornaments (one green glass ball and one red one) as earrings. "Hello," she said brightly. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Luna," Hermione said with a smile, and the others greeted her politely as well. She was a little strange, but she had fought alongside them in the battle at the Ministry of Magic, after all.

"I was wondering," Luna said to Hermione, "if you would mind if I borrowed Ronald for one dance."

"Not at all," Hermione replied cheerfully. "Go right ahead."

"Hey!" Ron protested. "Isn't anyone going to ask _my_ permission?"

"Would you like to dance with me?" Luna asked.

Ron opened his mouth to say "no" but Hermione gave him a look that said he had better say "yes". Harry wondered if she had picked it up from Blackmore. Ron mumbled reluctant assent, and Luna happily dragged him off onto the dance floor.

Harry turned to Ginny. "I thought you said it was rude to abandon your date."

"This is different," Ginny retorted. "Hermione doesn't mind, and it won't kill him to dance with Luna just once."

"I don't mind," Hermione confirmed. "Luna doesn't have many friends, and she really likes Ron, so he ought to be nice to her. I think it's kind of cute that she has a crush on him."

"Does she?" Harry asked.

The girls rolled their eyes. "Don't you remember that lion hat she wore to the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match last year?" Ginny asked impatiently. "And how she wished Ron luck?"

"I also remember she said that she didn't like to dance," Harry said, watching her dance with enthusiasm if not much skill. Ron stepped on her feet a couple of times but she didn't seem to mind. The girls just giggled, and Harry sighed. Fortunately for Ron, Luna seemed content with the one dance, and returned him to the table, thanking Hermione with a very serious expression on her face. 

After Luna left, Hermione smiled at him and said, "Thank you for being nice to Luna, Ron."

Ron, who had been about to complain, suddenly flushed a little and said, "Oh, uh, yeah. No problem."

 

After the Ball, Harry and Ron said goodnight to their dates in the common room. Harry found himself feeling very awkward as he mumbled, "Well, um, goodnight, Ginny. I, um, had fun tonight."

"Me too, Harry," Ginny said. "I had a really good time tonight. Thank you." She hesitated for a moment, kissed him on the cheek, and then hurried off into the girls' dorm.

Ron was too preoccupied to notice. "I'm sorry I stepped on your feet so many times," he apologized to Hermione.

"It's okay," she said cheerfully. "I still have some of that healing salve we made in Snape's class. A little of that, and they'll be good as new!"

"Yeah, well, I had a good time," Ron mumbled, staring at his feet.

"Me too," Hermione said. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Really?" Ron asked, looking up. He sounded startled but pleased. "You're welcome." He leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek, then turned bright red and hurried off to his room.

Harry and Hermione just stood there staring dumbly at each other for a moment, holding their cheeks, then retreated to their respective rooms.

*** 

Early on the morning after Christmas, while everyone was still sleeping, the house-elf Dobby ventured into the dungeon and slipped an envelope under the door of Professor Snape's quarters. He was more than happy to do a favor for a friend of Harry Potter's, the nice girl who had knitted him a scarf and mittens for Christmas.

A few hours later, Lupin was fixing a pot of tea when he noticed the envelope lying on the floor. He picked it up and handed it to Snape, saying, "Here, Severus, I think this is for you."

Snape looked startled. "I wonder who it could be from?" he said, staring at the blank envelope.

Lupin grinned. "Perhaps it's a Christmas card, delivered a bit late."

Snape snorted; he was unlikely to be receiving Christmas cards from anyone except perhaps the Slytherin parents, and he had already received all of his obligatory Christmas bribes. He tore open the envelope and read the note inside: "Thank you very much for the book, Professor Snape". There was no signature, but he recognized the Granger girl's very neat and precise handwriting.

Lupin saw the look of horror that crossed his lover's face, and asked with avid curiosity, "What does it say, Severus? Who is it from?"

Snape saw Lupin leaning over his shoulder to read the note, and hastily crumpled it up and tossed it into the fireplace, where it quickly turned into ashes. "Just some, ah, junk mail," he said. "Nothing important."

"It's a bit early for an official mail delivery," Lupin said skeptically.

"I said it was nothing, Lupin!" Snape snapped, flushing a little. "But if you'd care to act as my secretary, you can handle my mail from now on!"

Lupin had his suspicions, but he kept them to himself. "No need to be so grumpy, Sev," he said mildly, and kissed Snape on the cheek. "But I suppose you haven't had your morning dosage of caffeine and sugar yet." He poured a cup of tea, mixed in some cream and a great deal of sugar, and handed it to Snape. 

"Thank you, Remus," Snape said, relieved that Lupin seemed willing to let the matter drop. He returned Lupin's kiss, accepted the cup of tea, and silently resolved that he would absolutely, positively not buy any Christmas presents for any of the Gryffindor brats next year. And if the sarcastic little voice in his head scoffed at that, Snape pretended not to notice.

*** 

During the first week of Christmas vacation, Snape had been teaching the Death Eater offspring Dark Warding, which was the least dangerous thing he could think of, and it tied in nicely with what Lupin had been teaching them before the holidays. It was similar to the protective wards Lupin had shown them in class, but taken a step further: rather than simply blocking out an intruder, Dark Wards ensnared or inflicted damage on said intruder. The strongest of the Dark Wards would kill someone who tried to bypass them without the proper consent, but Snape didn't intend to teach the children those, and they weren't ready to handle such powerful spells yet, anyway. Draco seemed to be enjoying the lessons, and Crabbe and Goyle weren't as incompetent at it as Snape would have expected. Perhaps all the time and energy Lupin had expended on them had not been completely wasted.

Theodore and Serafina seemed to enjoy the intellectual challenge the lessons provided, although he knew the reason behind the tutoring sessions made them nervous. At least Theodore trusted him a little, but Snape was still not sure how to win over Serafina. It was extremely unlikely that she would be hexed by her father and then inadvertently reveal that fact to Snape as Theodore had; such coincidences rarely happened more than once, and besides, it was more Theodore's fear for Blaise than for himself that had made him turn to Snape for help. Serafina did not seem to care about anyone that way, except perhaps her mother, and there was very little that Snape could do to help Delia Avery. But he caught Serafina staring at him thoughtfully once or twice, as if she were not quite sure what to make of him, which he supposed was better than outright contempt. 

He gave them their main lessons in a group, but spent some time with each of the children in individual tutoring sessions, figuring that it would be easier to win their confidence if he spent time alone with them. Draco, as always, seemed pleased to receive praise and attention from his teacher, but his face took on a very odd look one day when Snape casually mentioned, "I am sure that Lucius will be pleased with your progress." All the emotion seemed to drain out of his face, except for just a hint of wariness and resentment in his eyes. Then he smiled and said, "Thank you, Professor," fixing his face in a polite mask, which worried Snape because Draco usually didn't bother to conceal his emotions.

Theodore looked tense and nervous during their sessions, but he smiled timidly when Snape praised his efforts. That vulnerable smile reminded him of Dylan's, and Snape nearly broke out in a cold sweat at the thought that he was just about the only thing standing between these children and the Dark Lord. Well, Lupin and the Order (or some of the Order, at least) would step in if anything happened to Snape, but if something did happen to Snape, the Order probably wouldn't find out about it until it was too late to save the children, and none of the children other than Dylan were likely to trust the Order, in any case. 

It was bad enough being responsible for Draco, Serafina, Crabbe, and Goyle, even though they didn't know it, but Theodore and Dylan were counting on him personally to protect them, and the thought of failing them filled him with terror and despair. This was ridiculous; he was a hardened former Death Eater and the bane of the students at Hogwarts. He had never before become personally attached to any of his charges during the fifteen years he had been teaching, but now he had, and he wondered, not for the first time, if his father was right about sentiment being a weakness.

Theodore was still worried about Blaise. He told Snape that Draco was cultivating Zabini and Pierce and some of the other students who, having little wealth or influence, might welcome the chance to advance themselves. And while Draco was eager to learn combative magic, Theodore seemed to be grateful for the warding lessons. Snape suspected that was because the boy was desperate to learn how to defend himself and his friend, and he promised to privately teach Theodore more protective spells, which earned him another grateful smile from the boy.

Unlike the boys, Serafina was not moved by Snape's praise; she performed all her assignments efficiently but emotionlessly. Wracking his brain for a way to win just a fraction of trust from her, he finally offered to teach her the same protective spells he was teaching Theodore. 

A hint of surprise flickered in her violet eyes. "I thought that was what Professor Lupin's class was for," she said.

Did she sound just a tad offended, or was it Snape's imagination? He knew that Lupin had been trying hard to win over the Slytherins, although he had reported having little success with Serafina. But perhaps he had made more of an impression on her than he realized... Snape debated with himself for a moment, then decided to take a small risk. "I admit that the werewolf is not as incompetent as he seems," Snape said in a haughty manner, but Serafina stared at him in shock, because he had never before said anything remotely complimentary about Lupin, at least not around his Slytherins. "While I am sure that he has been able to teach you a few useful tricks," Snape continued, "only one who is familiar with the Dark Arts can truly defend against them. But if you are not interested..." He almost called her "Miss Avery," but changed his mind and said, "...Serafina, then I won't waste my time."

Serafina blinked in surprise at hearing him call her by her first name, which he rarely did with anyone other than Draco and Dylan. She stared directly into his eyes for a long time, which surprised Snape, because very few of his students had the courage to meet his gaze for more than a few seconds, but he stared back at her, silently entreating her to trust him.

When she finally spoke, her voice and face were as expressionless as always, but she said, "I am interested, Professor. Thank you."

"Very well, then," Snape said. "Return at the usual time for your lesson."

When Dylan returned to Hogwarts, Snape stepped up the pace of the lessons and shifted the focus to more serious spells. He knew that this was dangerous, but it was necessary because Lucius and the Dark Lord would not be satisfied with him teaching the children purely defensive spells, and as nasty as the Dark Wards were, they were essentially defensive and not aggressive magic. So he began teaching them Blood Magic, a subcategory of the Dark Arts in which power could be gathered from the spilling of blood. He cast the Aperio spell so that the children could see the magical energy being released, and tried to teach the children how to cast it themselves. Serafina picked up on it quickly, and Draco and Theodore were reasonably successful at it, although it would obviously take some time for them to completely master the spell; Crabbe and Goyle, not surprisingly, were hopeless at it. 

But Snape knew he could not spend too much time on the Aperio spell when he was supposed to be teaching them the Dark Arts, so he moved on to the main lesson. He killed small creatures--frogs and mice and rats--and showed the children how to gather the energy released by their deaths. Although he slew the animals quickly and cleanly, and although they had been destined to become potion ingredients or food for the school owls, he still felt guilty about it. He tried to console himself a little by pretending that the rats were Pettigrew--he should have killed that treacherous piece of scum when he'd had the chance, back in the Shrieking Shack nearly three years ago, and cursed himself once again for not believing Lupin's story--but it didn't really help. It was not really so much the animals' deaths that troubled him, as it was the purpose those deaths were being put to. The children watched his demonstration with combined interest and revulsion, and as Snape had feared, Draco showed the least revulsion and the most interest. 

"The bigger the animal, the more power released, right?" Draco asked, his eyes gleaming eagerly. "And the death of a person releases the most power of all, more than any animal."

"That is correct," Snape replied coolly, keeping his face and voice calm although he felt sick with worry inside. Maybe Moody was right; maybe in trying to save the children, he was only corrupting them further...but there was no point in dwelling on such thoughts now; he was the one who had come up with this plan, and now that the Dark Lord had ordered him to carry it out, there was no turning back. "But you will practice only on small animals under my supervision until I say otherwise." 

He gave them his most intimidating glare, the one that made his students quake in fear, and they all turned a little pale, even Serafina; it was nice to know that he hadn't lost his touch. "You are not to experiment outside of these lessons, most certainly not on any of your classmates, not even the Gryffindors. It would be most awkward to explain the disappearance of a student, not to mention that the penalty for carrying out a blood sacrifice is death or a Dementor's Kiss. Well, death only now that the Dementors are gone, I suppose." He gave Draco a hard stare. "Is that clear, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, sir," Draco replied obediently, but Snape suspected that the boy didn't fear him as much as he should--the result of all those years of spoiling him and catering to Lucius Malfoy's wishes, no doubt. He decided he needed to emphasize his point, if only for Draco's sake; the other students looked properly cowed. "If you disobey me," Snape hissed, "it is not just my wrath you will face, but our Master's." All the children, including Draco, turned sheet-white. "He will be very, very cross if someone disrupts his plans by arousing the Ministry's suspicions with a foolish and impulsive act. Such an act might put the Death Eaters, including your father, in jeopardy, Mr. Malfoy."

"Don't worry, sir!" Draco said, with a great deal more fervor and sincerity. "I won't disobey you!"

"Good," said Snape, with a dark expression on his face. "Because compared to the Dark Lord, I would seem as soft as the werewolf." Draco paled further at the thought of someone who made Snape look soft, and Snape decided that he had frightened the boy enough. In fact, he hoped he had not alarmed the other children too much; he did not want to undo what little progress he had made with Serafina by talking too freely about the Dark Lord, but he had to make sure Draco didn't run around practicing Dark Magic on his classmates. 

Serafina's eyes flickered with brief surprise, then narrowed slightly when he made that comment about "the werewolf". He would have to watch himself carefully around the girl; it was difficult to tell what she was thinking, but he suspected that she was as perceptive as Dylan, and this was the second time he had referred to Lupin in front of her within the past week. She stared at him intently for a moment, as if trying to take his measure, then her face went blank again as Draco happened to glance in her direction.

Snape continued the lesson with the children much subdued. "What're we supposed to do with this energy we're gathering?" Crabbe asked. 

Draco gave his henchman an impatient look, but Snape explained calmly, "Casting spells uses up energy. You may not have noticed before, because the spells you have learned at Hogwarts so far are relatively simple and easy ones. But performing a very powerful spell--say, summoning a Greater Elemental, healing a person near death, or conjuring up a storm in clear weather--will drain you of energy and make you as tired as if you had worked a full day of hard physical labor. You can take the energy released by blood sacrifice and use it in place of your own to fuel such a spell, or use it to replenish your own strength if you are tired or injured." 

This was partly why the Dark Lord had been so intent upon killing Muggles and Muggle-born, although Snape did not mention this to the children. It was not just his hatred for them--although that hatred seemed to be sincere--but his desire to gain power from their deaths that had motivated his murderous rampage. "However," Snape continued, "you must learn to properly channel this energy or it will be useless to you. And that is what the spells I am teaching you are for."

"Oh," Crabbe said, looking surprised that Snape had explained all this to him without berating him for being an idiot. Snape noticed that no one other than Crabbe and Goyle seemed to find his lecture particularly enlightening. Draco, Dylan, Theodore, and Serafina all listened attentively and nodded occasionally, but it was clear that they already understood the concept of Blood Magic even if they hadn't practiced it before. But they were Slytherins and the children of Death Eaters; it was only natural that they would have much more knowledge of the Dark Arts than your average Hogwarts student.

Crabbe and Goyle were surprisingly squeamish about killing the small sacrifices, although they did as they were told, and found the lessons rather frustrating, because most of the spells required a subtle touch that they lacked. Dylan, Theodore, and Serafina, although they were adept enough at the spells, seemed to be repulsed by them. But Draco enjoyed the lessons a little too much for Snape's taste, and he worried once again that he had made a big mistake by proposing to tutor the children in the Dark Arts.

"I'm worried about you, Severus," Lupin said one night. "You're running yourself ragged with these lessons."

"I work harder than this during normal classes," Snape said dismissively. "I'm only teaching six students, after all."

"That's not what I meant," Lupin said gently. "It's taking an emotional toll on you, Severus; you can't deny it."

"I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing," Snape admitted. "I think I'm making progress with Theodore and Serafina, but I'm afraid that I'm only pushing Draco closer to the Death Eaters. He enjoys the lessons too much."

"You're doing the best you can, my love," Lupin said, stroking his cheek. "It was important to keep Theodore and Serafina safely away from their parents."

"But what if it turns out that I'm sacrificing Draco for their sake?" Snape asked, his black eyes looking haunted. "On the other hand, how could I sacrifice Theodore and Serafina for Draco's sake? What if I can't save them all? How can I choose which of my children to save, Lupin?" He didn't seem to notice that he had referred to them as his "children" and not his "students," and Lupin didn't think that now was the right time to point it out to him. Snape laughed bitterly. "I let Dylan's father and Lyall Wilkes die for the greater good--"

"You didn't 'let' them die, Severus," Lupin interrupted in a firm voice.

"I didn't try to save them," Snape said. "It amounts to the same thing. I didn't try to persuade them to leave the Death Eaters because it would have jeopardized my cover, and innocent people might have died. But I'm still not sure I made the right choice."

"You did the best you could, Severus," Lupin said gently, although he knew that his lover would not be comforted by his words. "You can't take all the blame. Evan and Lyall were grown men with minds of their own. You made the choice to renounce the Death Eaters; they could have done so as well, but they chose not to."

"But Draco's still a child," Snape whispered. "A spoiled, selfish child, but still, a child. He's not responsible for his actions in the same way that you can argue Evan and Lyall were. If by saving the others, I must give him up to the Death Eaters, should I do it?"

"We will save them all," Lupin said fiercely, throwing his arms around Snape and holding him tightly. "We won't sacrifice any of them!" He told himself that there was no other option. The guilt Severus felt over Evan Rosier and Lyall Wilkes was bad enough; he was afraid it would break Severus completely if one of his Slytherin children fell to the Death Eaters. 

And besides, Lupin had come to care for the Slytherins as much as Severus had. He cared for his other students as well--the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws--but the Slytherins seemed especially needy and vulnerable somehow. Crabbe and Goyle, so eager for a little praise and a kind word. Dylan, who had grown up too fast, being forced to live a lie for nearly all of his young life. Theodore and Serafina, always so guarded and distrustful, because they had long ago been betrayed by the people who should have loved and protected them--their parents. Even Draco, who despite his arrogant and insufferable manner, was a child who longed for his father's approval. 

He wanted to protect all of them and smother them with love. Maybe he was as motivated by guilt as Severus was; maybe he was only projecting onto them his wish that he had tried harder to love and protect Severus when they had been children themselves. Maybe he was trying to atone for his own sins, but whatever the reason, the Slytherin children had become dear to his heart, and he would do whatever he must to protect them. 

"We will save them all," Lupin repeated, no longer sure whether he was trying to persuade Severus or himself of that. "Even Draco. I reached him once; I can do it again. We just have to show him that we care about him."

Snape knew it wouldn't be as easy as Lupin made it sound, but his lover had that stubborn look on his face that Snape knew so well, and suddenly he felt much better. Whenever Lupin got that look on his face, he inevitably got his way; little Draco Malfoy was no match for a stubborn werewolf, Snape thought to himself with amusement. 

Much to Lupin's surprise, Snape suddenly grinned, kissed him soundly, and said, "I love you, Remus!"

Lupin smiled at him, looking confused but pleased, and replied, "I love you, too, Severus."

"We can do it," Snape said confidently, and when Lupin gave him another confused look, he added, "I'm counting on you, Remus. You broke down my resistance, despite a grudge held for nearly two decades. And these children are nowhere near as tough as me." 

Lupin threw back his head and laughed. He knew that this was not the end of their worries and doubt, but for now, he felt confident that they could save their Slytherin children. He simply would not allow himself to picture any other possible outcome.

*** 

Dumbledore called an Order meeting shortly before school started again, and they were joined by a new member.

"You!" Moody snarled in disbelief as Ariane walked into the room.

"She is Mathias Donner's representative," Dumbledore said sternly. "Whatever she may have done in the past, she is on our side now."

"How can we be sure of that?" a furious Moody asked. "How can we be sure she will not betray us?"

"The Dark Lord has threatened her life and her son's," Snape answered curtly. "She will not betray us."

McGonagall gave Ariane a wary look. "How do we know that she will not betray us for the sake of her son?" she asked quietly. "A mother might do anything to protect her child if, for example, the Death Eaters should suspect she is working for us, and threaten Dylan if she does not help them..."

Ariane met the eyes of her accusers without flinching and said, "My uncle has put me under Geas." A murmur of surprise rippled around the table. "I cannot betray you. If I try to speak of this meeting to anyone outside of the Order, the words literally will not come out of my mouth."

"What if You-Know-Who tries to rip the information out of your mind by force?" Shacklebolt asked suspiciously. As an Auror, he had seen some of the victims Evan Rosier and Lyall Wilkes had tortured and killed, and he was not inclined to be forgiving.

"Geas cannot be broken, not even unwillingly or unintentionally," Ariane replied in a steady voice. "If the Dark Lord tries to take the information from my mind with his magic, I will die."

Silence fell over the table. Snape was certain that no one had explained this piece of information to Dylan and he profoundly hoped that he would never have to.

Moody still glowered at her, but no one voiced any further objections as Ariane took her seat at the table. Branwen broke the silence by asking if Goewin was still having any prophetic dreams or visions.

"Yes, but her dreams are vague," Ariane replied. "Math says that is because the baby is not fully formed yet. They will probably grow clearer as her time of birth draws near."

Sirius drummed his fingers on the table nervously. "I wonder why the baby is so important?" he said. "Does Miyako's prophecy mean that Goewin will have some vision vital to winning the war while she is pregnant, or must we wait for the child to grow up and become a Seer?" The first might mean that the war was coming very soon, but the second would mean that the final battle would not come for at least several years.

"Goewin sees the children in her dreams," Ariane whispered, her silver-gray eyes suddenly growing fearful. "She sees Dylan and Draco and the other Death Eaters' children fighting on the battlefield, although she cannot tell which side they are fighting for. And she sees the Potter boy and his friends. They look the same to her as they do now, teenagers, not adults, so if the dreams are true, the war cannot be more than a couple of years away at most. Probably less."

Silence fell over the table again, a particularly gloomy one. Finally Tonks cleared her throat and asked, "Does Goewin see the outcome of the war?"

"Not always," Ariane replied. "Mostly she just sees the battle and not the conclusion. But sometimes she sees the Dark Lord falling to the Potter boy, and at other times the Dark Lord triumphs and we all die."

The other members of the Order stared at her in horror, and Dumbledore said softly, "The future is not set in stone. There were two possible outcomes from the first Prophecy, and Voldemort sealed his fate and set events in motion by trying to kill Harry. A Seer does not necessarily see what will be, but rather the likeliest of all possible futures."

"There are only two possible futures here," Moody muttered. "Either we win and the world is saved, or we lose and the world as we know it is destroyed. I don't need a Seer to tell me that."

"Miyako said the child is important," Lupin insisted, "and that she would help turn the tide of the war. It must be that the child, either directly or through Goewin, will give us some hint that will help us win the war."

"Fine," Moody said skeptically. "But I don't think we should sit around waiting for visions."

"No one is saying that we should, Alastor," Dumbledore said patiently. 

"How are your little Death-Eaters-in-training doing, Snape?" Moody asked sarcastically.

Snape glared at him, but before he could make a retort, Mrs. Weasley snapped in a sharp voice, "Alastor!" It made Snape regard her a little more benevolently than he usually did, and it pleased him that she seemed to care about his Slytherin students despite the fact that she had produced a passel of annoying Gryffindor brats.

"These children don't give their trust easily," Snape said in a cool voice, "but I believe that I am making some progress. They aren't like their parents; all of them save Draco are a little afraid of the spells that I am teaching them."

"I'm not sure that Mr. Malfoy has the good sense to be scared when he should be," McGonagall muttered, looking a little worried. 

"We are making progress," Lupin said firmly. "All the Slytherins, even Draco, are gradually becoming accustomed to working and cooperating with the Gryffindors, thanks in great part to Branwen's project. There are even a few tentative friendships blossoming among them. We will prevent them from making the same mistakes their parents did."

"All well and good for the children," Shacklebolt said, although he didn't look as though he believed Lupin. "But they aren't our main problem; their parents are. Winning over the Slytherin children won't matter if You-Know-Who wins the war."

"It might make a difference," Tonks said thoughtfully. "Ariane said that Goewin saw the children fighting in her dreams. It's possible that which side the Slytherin children choose to fight on could make a difference in the outcome of the war."

Ariane looked very unhappy, though she said nothing, and Molly Weasley cried out, "We can't involve the children in a war!"

"They're already involved, Molly," Branwen said gently. "Voldemort has been trying to kill Harry ever since he was a baby."

"My Slytherins are involved, too," Snape said grimly. "The Death Eaters intend to hand their children over to the Dark Lord unless we stop them."

"How could anyone do such a thing to their own children?" Molly whispered in horrified disbelief.

"The Malfoys are doing it because they believe that Draco will have a position of honor and power in the Dark Lord's world," Snape replied, although her question was probably rhetorical. "And Crabbe and Goyle are doing it because they do whatever Lucius Malfoy does. Andreas Avery and Thaddeus Nott see their children as possessions, pawns to be manipulated in a game of power, and sacrificed if necessary. At best they see their children as a means by which to carry on the family name, but I assure you that they have no tender feelings for their offspring." Molly shook her head, looking more stunned and horrified than ever, and Snape marveled at that typical Gryffindor idealism and naivety. He both scorned her and envied her for it at the same time; a world in which it was inconceivable that a parent could harm a child seemed like something out of a fairy tale to him.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and changed the subject, although he gave Molly a sympathetic look. "The Japanese emissaries have met with the Ministry officials, with only limited success, I am sorry to report. They are willing to accept whatever aid the Japanese wizards will offer, but were less receptive to our allies' suggestion that they grant equal rights to the non-humans." 

Sirius groaned, "Those idiots! They won't realize the danger until Voldemort shows up on their doorstep! He already has, come to think of it--shown up on their doorstep, I mean--and they're still more worried about their pride and their stupid prejudices! It's hopeless!"

"Maybe not," Dumbledore said. "They didn't outright refuse--"

"No, let me guess, they decided to form a committee and debate about it endlessly," Sirius said sarcastically.

"That's uncomfortably close to the truth," Dumbledore sighed. "But still, at least they're willing to acknowledge the possibility, which is a slight improvement. They were a bit shaken by the, ah, exotic and unusual nature of the emissaries, but perhaps once they calm down, they'll be more sensible." Sirius rolled his eyes in disbelief. "In the meantime," Dumbledore continued, "Professor Kamiyama and his friends have sent along these protective charms for us." He passed out charms that resembled the omamori charms Kamiyama's temple sold, except that the little brocade bags were strung on loops of black cord so they could be worn like necklaces. The Order members accepted them, although a few, like Moody, looked at them a bit skeptically.

Branwen examined hers closely. "There is a very strong enchantment upon them," she assured Moody, and everyone put them on, tucking the charms out of sight beneath their robes.

"I have also arranged for the emissaries to meet select groups of non-humans," Dumbledore said. "Discreetly, of course--and I have obtained permission for them to teach as guest lecturers at Hogwarts for the coming term."

"Well, this should be interesting," Snape muttered.

"It sounds like fun, Severus," Lupin said in a bright, chirpy tone, and Snape gave him a sour look.

*** 

When school started again, Dumbledore cheerfully announced that three guest instructors, on loan from the Japanese school of magic, Mahou Gakkou, would be teaching at Hogwarts for the rest of the school year "in order to promote friendship and an exchange of ideas between our peoples".

An excited buzz of hushed conversation broke out across the room, and Dumbledore motioned for quiet, but he looked pleased. "Professor Chizuru will be teaching healing and weaving magic." Most of the boys stared in awe at the beautiful woman who rose from her seat, smiled, and bowed slightly in the direction of the students. "Master Karasu will be teaching physical defense and martial arts, and Master Satoshi will be teaching illusion." 

To the students' further shock, the Headmaster explained that their new teachers were all shapeshifters--Chizuru was a crane maiden, Karasu was a tengu, and Satoshi was a tanuki. Satoshi demonstrated this most dramatically by transforming himself into his true form, a plump raccoon dog, right at the head table. The students gasped in surprise, then giggled as he waved at the crowd of students with one paw, and picked up his tea cup with the other and took a sip from it. He transformed back into his human form after McGonagall gave him a stern look usually reserved for her students rather than a fellow teacher.

"'Friendship and exchange of ideas,' hah!" Draco said to Dylan at the Slytherin table. "The old man's trying to make some new allies!"

"We shouldn't talk about such things here," Dylan whispered, letting his eyes dart over in Snape's direction, and Draco fell silent. He hated to admit it, but Rosier was right; Snape would have a fit if he caught Draco talking about Death Eater business in public. Meanwhile, Dylan was laughing and making harmless small talk with the girls, who were fawning over him as usual, and admiring his new silver hair clasp.

"My mother gave it to me for Christmas," Dylan said happily. 

"The rose design is so beautiful," gushed Pansy.

"It's the crest of my father's family," Dylan replied.

"Oh yes, I see, it matches the design on your ring!"

Draco scowled. Dylan was the only boy he knew who could get away with wearing a hair clasp--one engraved with flowers, no less!--without looking like a sissy. Draco's hair wasn't long enough to tie back, but even it was, he knew he'd look ridiculous if he tried such a thing.

Damien Pierce, not surprisingly, was drooling over the new female teacher. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he asked dreamily. Most of the other boys nodded in agreement, looking just as spellbound.

"She's a non-human, you dolts!" Draco snapped. "Are you telling me you'd like to mate with a bird, for Merlin's sake?!"

"If she looks like that, yes!" Damien laughed, then blanched a little when Draco glared at him.

"You're disgusting!" Yvonne squealed. She had not been particularly happy to come back from touching up her makeup and gossiping with some other girls in the restroom to find her date dancing with a Gryffindor girl at the Yule Ball. She still hadn't forgiven him, but Damien didn't particularly seem to care.

"It's not that big a deal," Dylan said in a mild voice. "She's a teacher; it's not like she's going to be messing around with any of the students. There's no harm in admiring a beautiful woman from afar, is there?"

"Exactly!" Damien agreed hastily. "It's an...ah...aesthetic appreciation of beauty!"

Draco rolled his eyes, but didn't argue further, and the conversation quickly moved on to safer subjects. But after breakfast, he hurried over to talk to Snape.

"We both have class in a few minutes, Malfoy," Snape said impatiently.

"Do we really have to take lessons from those non-humans?!" Draco asked in an outraged voice.

Snape sighed, looking annoyed and a little weary. "We can't talk about such things here, Draco; let's go to my office. You'll be late for your first class, but I'll write you a note."

As soon as they were alone, Draco burst out, "It's unthinkable, to force us to take lessons from animals!"

"You're already taking lessons from the werewolf," Snape pointed out in a dry voice, "and unpleasant as that must be, you have managed to survive it." Draco flushed. "And as much as I hate to admit it, he seems to have taught you a few useful spells; I heard that you were able to summon a full Patronus. Quite impressive for someone your age, in such a short period of time."

Draco flushed again, but this time with pleasure. "Yes, sir," he said, in a calmer voice. "But what's the point of all these extra lessons? Besides Dumbledore trying to forge new alliances, that is. Does our Master know about--?"

Snape cut him off sharply. "Our Master knows all he needs to know, Malfoy! Neither he nor I need to be instructed in our business by a schoolboy!" Draco fell into a sulky silence, and Snape added in a more benign voice, "However, I am pleased that you were able to infer the implications behind the Headmaster's little gesture of 'friendship'."

"Thank you, sir!" Draco said proudly, forgetting his sulk.

"As I have told you before, Draco," Snape continued, "my position here is tenuous at present. I cannot afford to draw suspicion to myself by opposing Dumbledore on this matter. Think of it as a test or challenge of sorts, Draco." Draco gave him a confused look, and Snape explained with a sly smile, "Play along with the Headmaster, Draco. Play the role of the studious, obedient schoolboy and lull the suspicions of our enemies. Let them think you harmless for now; perhaps you can even pretend to be won over by these new 'friends'."

"Sort of like being a spy?" Draco asked thoughtfully.

"Exactly," Snape said. His mouth was still smiling, but his black eyes were cold and hard. Draco shuddered a little, but he felt flattered at being given such an important role to play. 

"All right, sir," Draco said in a determined voice. "I'll do my best."

"Good," Snape said, relaxing a little. The cold look left his eyes, and he smiled at Draco almost indulgently. "Human or not, our new guests are experts in fields of magic rarely taught at Hogwarts; take this opportunity to learn what you can from them. Think of the irony, Mr. Malfoy--Dumbledore's allies educating his enemies."

Draco laughed maliciously. "Someday, maybe we'll be able to use what we learned against them!"  "Exactly," Snape said. "Now, you had better run along, Draco--I believe Incantations is your first class of the day, and Professor Blackmore doesn't approve of tardiness." Draco shuddered again, and Snape wrote him an excuse note.

Draco took the note and hurried off to class; he was only a few minutes late. Blackmore raised an eyebrow as she read the note, but she simply ordered him to take his seat without handing out punishment or asking for any further explanation.

*** 

The new teachers settled in at Hogwarts, and soon became quite popular with most of the students. Both the male and female students were in awe of Chizuru, who never seemed to hurry; rather, she moved with an air of very slow, deliberate grace. She never raised her voice, either; she spoke in a very soft, slightly accented voice, but she never had any trouble making herself heard. There was something in her voice, as quiet as it was, that made even the rowdiest students fall silent and listen in rapt attention.

There was a reason, it turned out, why healing magic was not taught at Hogwarts: only those born with the Healing Gift could practice true healing magic. Since so few people were born with that gift, a budding healer was usually apprenticed to a more experienced mentor rather than being taught such skills in the classroom.

"How can you tell if you have the Gift?" Hermione Granger asked.

Chizuru smiled. "A true healer can tell. I will examine each of you, and see whether you have the Gift or not." The "examination," as far as Draco could tell, consisted of Chizuru holding a student's hand, closing her eyes and meditating for a minute or two, then pronouncing them Gifted or not. Of the sixth-year Slytherins, only Zabini had the Gift, although a very minor one, Chizuru said. He blinked and looked surprised. "But even a minor Gift can be useful, if properly trained and utilized." 

Draco later found out that among the fifth-years, Dylan also had a minor Gift. "Why am I not surprised?" Draco muttered to himself. Dylan Rosier was good at everything; why not healing, too? But what was surprising was that Serafina Avery had the Healing Gift, a full and true one, according to Chizuru. "Avery?" Draco muttered incredulously when he heard the news. She obviously had a gift for hexing; healing seemed antithetical to that. In fact, it seemed inappropriate for a future Death Eater to have a Healing Gift, somehow.

Among the Gryffindors, Lavender Brown and Neville Longbottom both had minor Gifts; Draco found that even more shocking than the news about Avery. "Longbottom is Gifted at something?" Draco exclaimed in disbelief. The Gryffindors glared at him, but Professor Chizuru just smiled at him serenely and said, "Everyone is gifted at something, Mr. Malfoy." 

For those who were not Gifted, their class time was not wasted. She taught them more mundane healing methods--such as how to set broken bones and bandage wounds. It might not be magical, she told her class, but in an emergency such knowledge might save the life of a victim until a healer could be summoned. Draco chafed at performing such Muggle-like tasks, but recalling Snape's instructions to "play along," he gritted his teeth and did as he was told. The beautiful crane maiden rewarded him with one of her gentle smiles, and he found himself smiling back without thinking. 

He berated himself a moment later, reminding himself that it was one thing to play the role of the obedient schoolboy, but that he couldn't fall into the trap of being beguiled by a pretty face like that skirt-chaser Pierce or those idiots Crabbe and Goyle, who stared at her with a befuddled, almost worshipful gaze. Draco would berate his two henchmen in private about going soft, and they would promise not to do it again, but every time Chizuru smiled at them, they would get that glazed, adoring look in their eyes again. Most of the boys in all the Houses looked at her that way; sometimes Draco had to stop himself from doing it, and wondered if she could be projecting some sort of glamor.

She also taught them how to prepare healing salves, poultices, and elixirs, somewhat different from the ones Professor Snape was teaching them. Draco spoke in private to Snape, who confirmed that the Japanese healer's concoctions were effective, if a bit exotic. In fact, Draco noticed them discussing healing potions at the dinner table sometimes, and she stopped by his office every now and then when she needed a particular ingredient for her classes. If the crane maiden did possess the ability to beguile men, Snape seemed to be immune to it, treating her with a kind of cool politeness, although that oaf Hagrid was as tongue-tied and befuddled around her as Crabbe and Goyle were.

She also set up a loom in the classroom to teach what she called "weaving magic". Her people, she said, were expert weavers. She asked if anyone had ever heard of an old Japanese folktale called "The Crane's Gift"; not surprisingly, Granger raised her hand and recited the story: 

"An elderly couple found a wounded crane in the snow, nursed it back to health, and released it. Not long after that, a young woman showed up on their doorstep, begging for shelter. The kindly couple took her in, of course, and having no children of their own, soon came to look upon her as a daughter. The couple was very poor, and their adopted daughter said she would weave cloth for them to sell, but told them that they must promise never to look in on her while she wove it. To their amazement, she wove the most beautiful cloth they had ever seen. They were able to sell it for a good price in gold, and soon they were living comfortably. Whenever they needed more money, the daughter would retreat into her room and weave more cloth. The old couple grew quite curious about how she wove such magnificent cloth, and one day they could not resist, and peeked in on her. To their surprise they saw a crane, plucking feathers from her own breast, and weaving them into cloth on the loom. It was the crane they had saved, who had come to repay their kindness. But now that they had seen her true form, she could no longer stay with them, and flew away forever."

"Very good, Miss Granger," Chizuru said with a smile, and Granger beamed at her. "Weaving is the Gift of my people, you might say. I cannot teach you to weave with feathers, of course." She laughed gently, and the class--or most of them, anyway--smiled at her adoringly. "But I can teach you how to weave magic into the cloth. Spells of healing can be woven into bandages, to help wounds heal faster, and spells of protection can be woven into cloth to make healing charms or garments. A Master class mage can make a robe that will provide as much protection as a suit of armor. Such things are beyond the scope of this class, of course, but I can teach you to weave small magics of healing and protection. There are also practical spells that can be woven into cloth to make them stronger or to repel stains, and spells of no practical value save to make the cloth more beautiful, to make it shimmer and glow."

Chizuru told them she had woven the cloth for her own kimonos; she usually wore one of plain white silk bordered with black, but sometimes she wore ones that seemed to made of the magical cloth in the fairy tale of the Crane Daughter, in beautiful lustrous colors and intricate patterns of birds or flowers or waves. She made the weaving look easy, but it was really quite difficult. Working the loom was not as easy as it looked--more Muggle work, Draco thought disgruntledly--and working the spells into the cloth took a delicate touch, not to mention that it was difficult and to weave and cast a spell at the same time. 

Chizuru could work her weaving magic without a wand, but the students could not, and the magic worked best, their instructor told them, when it was being cast upon the cloth as it was being woven. So they found it was easier to work in pairs, with one person weaving and one person casting the spells. Crabbe and Goyle had the most difficulty in this class, with both their cloth and their spells turning into a knotted, tangled mess, but Chizuru never scolded them, and always encouraged them and praised their hard work (if not their talent), and despite the fact that they found the lessons rather frustrating at times, they were always eager to come to her class.

She also started an informal sort of social club, where she gave lessons on origami (the Japanese art of paper folding), flower arranging, and the Japanese tea ceremony, or sometimes simply talked about the customs of her homeland. It was an extracurricular club, so no one was required to attend, but these sessions were quite popular, as most of the boys were infatuated with crane maiden, and most of the girls idolized her and wanted to emulate her. Draco attended a few of the meetings, but he found the flower arranging boring, and all the complicated rituals that went into making and drinking a simple cup of tea (and bitter tea at that) for the tea ceremony rather pointless. 

The origami folding was mildly amusing, though, and she taught them a useful little enchantment: how to make the little origami cranes fly. One could write a brief message on a square piece of paper, fold it into the shape of a bird, and send it flying off to whomever the message was intended for. The enchantment lasted only briefly and had a very limited range, so it would never replace the owl post, but it was useful for sending notes to friends within the school, and it soon became all the rage for sweethearts to send each other love notes via the little paper cranes. The students soon learned not to send them during class, though, after one crane found its way into Snape's third-year Potions class. He plucked the crane out of the air, unfolded it, and read it aloud in his uniquely scathing voice as the Slytherin half of the class howled with laughter, and the intended recipient of the message (a Gryffindor girl) turned beet-red with humiliation.

*** 

Karasu held his class in a large, empty room with no desks, only wooden practice weapons hanging in racks on the wall and padded mats lining the floor. Draco grumbled under his breath that it was a waste of time for wizards to be learning physical combat. The crow-man, it seemed, had very keen hearing, because he overheard that remark.

"So, young Mr. Malfoy," Karasu said, "you feel you have no need for my lessons?"

Draco hesitated, torn between the desire to voice his scorn, and Snape's orders to play the role of the obedient schoolboy. He tried for some middle ground: "Meaning no disrespect, sir, but I don't understand how any warrior, however skilled, could stand against a trained mage. What good is a sword or a staff, when the mage can disarm, stun, or even kill the warrior with a flick of his wand?"

Karasu stared at him for a moment, his brown eyes unreadable, then he smiled, but it was not a gentle or reassuring smile like Chizuru's; even when he was being pleasant, the tengu warrior looked fierce and dangerous.

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy," Karasu said, "let us make a wager. I will attack you using no magic, armed only with my staff; you may use your wand and whatever spells you please against me. If you can defeat me, I will excuse you from these lessons. However, if I defeat you, then you will take the lessons and follow my instructions without complaint."

Theodore eyed their new teacher warily. Draco was smiling confidently, but Theo knew that the tengu would not have offered such a bargain if he didn't think he could win. "Um, Draco, maybe this isn't such a good idea--"

"Done!" Draco said to Karasu, ignoring Theodore. He took out his wand, and Karasu took a long wooden staff down from the wall. He bowed to Draco; Draco bowed back. 

"On the count of three, then," Karasu said. "One...two...three!"

Draco lifted his wand and shouted, "Expelli--"

Moving with lightning speed, Karasu lunged across the room, striking out with his staff. Draco cried out in pain as it cracked hard across his knuckles, and he dropped his wand. He felt the tip of the staff touch his throat and he froze in place.

"If this were a spear, Mr. Malfoy," Karasu said, with no hint of smugness or gloating in his voice, "you would be dead now. Actually, even with a blunt wooden staff such as this, I could have killed you if I wished to. So you see, magic is indeed a powerful weapon, but it is not an invincible one. That is your first lesson: never underestimate your opponent." 

Draco rubbed his sore hand sulkily, and Ron Weasley snickered. "You find that amusing, Red-Hair?" Karasu asked in a cold voice, and Weasley blanched and gulped. "You have just volunteered to help me demonstrate my next lesson to the class." He set aside his staff, and explained to Weasley and the class that he was going to start them off with basic lessons in unarmed combat before teaching them to use weapons. "And the first thing you need to know is not how to attack, but how to defend yourself." He demonstrated some simple evasive and blocking maneuvers--at least, they looked simple when he performed them. Weasley and the rest of the class soon found out what the mats were for--to soften the blow of being thrown to the ground. Draco's hurt pride was somewhat salved by the sight of Weasley being knocked on his arse, not once, but several times.

Draco and the other students soon found out that Karasu's lessons resulted in a lot of aches and bruises; the salves and poultices they made in Chizuru's class came in quite handy. Not all the tengu's lessons were violent, however. On some days, they played board games like Shogi (a sort of Japanese version of chess) to teach them strategy. "You must learn to predict what move your opponent will make," Karasu told them. "If you can determine far enough in advance what the enemy will do, the battle will be won before it is even started."

Draco reluctantly agreed that made sense, and he turned out to be quite good at the strategy games, winning a curt but approving, "Well done, Mr. Malfoy," from his teacher one day, and he could not help but feel a little surge of pride; Karasu tended to be taciturn, and blunt when he did speak, and handed out praise almost as sparingly as Snape did.

"It figures that a Slytherin would be good at being sneaky," Weasley muttered. Draco had won this current match over Weasley by subtlety and deception; he had feigned a frontal attack and sacrificed several pieces while quietly maneuvering another piece into position to capture Weasley's king. The Gryffindor boy hadn't even seen it coming. Of course, it didn't take a great deal of brains to defeat someone like Weasley, but Draco had not held back (remembering Karasu's admonition never to underestimate your opponent) and had played to the very best of his ability. Karasu seemed to be mildly impressed by his strategy, at least, even though it was probably wasted on Weasley.

"It figures that a Gryffindor can't appreciate a little subtlety," Draco retorted, but he was in such a good mood that his voice had little sting to it. In fact, he almost pitied the Gryffindors; they were always so straightforward, wearing their hearts on their sleeves ("Like fools," his father would say if he were here), that most of them could not appreciate or master the finer arts of guile and trickery. He detested being forced to work with them (Potter and Weasley were still his partners in Blackmore's class), but he was gradually growing accustomed to their presence, as annoying as it was. At times, the insults tossed back and forth between them almost became perfunctory.

"Mr. Weasley," Karasu said in an almost amused voice, "it is much less dangerous, not to mention much less painful, to defeat your enemy with your wits rather than hand-to-hand or sword-to-sword on the battlefield. And Mr. Malfoy, it is wise to never let success make you complacent."

"Yes, sir," the boys chorused. Each settled for giving the other a brief glare, then shrugged off the other's insult and started a new game. Subtlety and deception were required traits for a Death Eater, Draco mused to himself; perhaps Karasu's lessons would serve him well when he was finally allowed to take his rightful place among the Dark Lord's followers. Snape was right; Draco resolved to learn what he could from his new teachers, and someday the Headmaster might regret bringing them here when Draco and his friends joined the Death Eaters and used that knowledge against the old man and his allies...

*** 

Satoshi, unlike his two comrades, did not wear traditional Japanese dress, but rather wore robes similar to those of the other Hogwarts teachers; he even feigned an exaggerated British accent, much to his students' amusement, although it tended to slip when he forgot to concentrate. "We have survived all these years by being able to blend in among the humans," he told his students. "All that practice, I suppose, has made us talented Illusionists." He told them that his type of magic was similar to Transfiguration, but that only the appearance, and not the actual substance of the object, was changed. "For example," he said, "I could turn myself into a tea kettle." And in the blink of an eye, a fat, round black iron tea kettle sat on the floor in place of their teacher. He transformed back and added, "But if you placed me upon the fire, it would burn the fur off my poor tail." He sprouted a tail from his otherwise human form, and feigned beating out imaginary flames on it with a frantic air as the children laughed.

"Of course," Satoshi continued, "small, subtle changes are easier to make than large, dramatic ones. It is easier, for example, to change the color of Miss Patil's hair than to change her into a tea kettle." He lightly tapped his wand on Parvati's head and her dark hair suddenly changed to golden-blonde.

The class burst into laughter again and Parvati indignantly shouted, "Change it back!"

"Your hair is still black, Parvati," Satoshi replied calmly. "I have only put a kind of glamor upon it; if you look closely, you can see through the spell." 

Parvati frowned at her blonde braid, and the other students stared at it closely as well. Her hair seemed to shimmer, and they rubbed at their eyes; suddenly they could see through the illusion, as if it were transparent, to the real color of Parvati's hair that lay beneath it.

"Do you think you can break the spell?" Satoshi asked.

Parvati took out her wand, tapped her braid with it, and said, "Finite Incantatum!" The illusion vanished and her hair returned to normal.

"Very good, Parvati!" Satoshi said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. "It is traditional to hand out points for a job well done, is it not? Five points to Gryffindor. As you can see, an illusion is easy to break if one is expecting to see it. Also, a wizard can see through an illusion more easily than a--ah, what do you call them? Than a Muggle. In order to create a convincing illusion, you must build it carefully, paying attention to detail. Beginners often make careless mistakes that render the illusion worthless. For example, tanuki cubs, when first learning to shapeshift, often forget little details--like their tails, for instance." He transformed himself into a tea kettle again, but this time there was a fuzzy striped tail growing out of it. The students laughed, and Satoshi became human again. "You see, no one would ever believe that was a real tea kettle!"

He set them to work changing--or more accurately, giving small objects the semblance of things approximately the same size and shape. Changing a twig into a pencil, for example, or a bottlecap into a coin. He also taught them not to transform an object completely, but to merely alter part of its appearance, such as changing the color of their hair, as he had done to Parvati, or changing the pictures on a deck of cards...

Which eventually led to trouble. Although Satoshi was very popular with the students, he was soon in hot water with the teachers, or at least with McGonagall.

"Headmaster!" McGonagall shouted, bursting into Dumbledore's office, dragging Satoshi along behind her like an errant student. Chizuru and Karasu trailed along after them. Dumbledore and Snape looked up with a start. "I'm sorry, Albus, Severus, I didn't mean to interrupt, but this is important!"

"My business can wait," Snape said in a surprisingly reasonable tone of voice, not out of any charitable feelings towards McGonagall, but rather out of curiosity. He eyed the tanuki, wondering what mischief the trickster had gotten himself into. Satoshi hung his head down, looking shamefaced and properly cowed, but Snape, with his fifteen years of experience teaching annoying Gryffindor brats, could see a mischievous little twinkle in the tanuki's eyes.

"What seems to be the problem, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked calmly. 

"He's been teaching the children to counterfeit money!" McGonagall said indignantly. "And to cheat at cards!"

Satoshi grinned sheepishly. "It was only an example," he protested in an innocent voice. "A simple class exercise; I didn't know that they would use those spells outside of class."

"Oh, don't play dumb, Satoshi," Karasu snorted. "It's an old tanuki trick, turning leaves into money. Of course the spell is only temporary, and the hapless shopkeeper is left with a pile of worthless trash, by which time the tanuki is long gone."

McGonagall glared at the tanuki, and Chizuru smiled a little. "The tanuki are tricksters and pranksters," she said. "It is their nature."

"I don't care; he's setting a bad example for the children!" McGonagall snapped. "That is unacceptable behavior for a teacher!"

Dumbledore affected a stern look, but there was a certain twinkle in his eyes as well. "I think it would be best if you do not show the students anymore tricks that can be so easily abused. Is that clear, Master Satoshi?"

"Yes, sir," Satoshi replied meekly.

"Is that all?" McGonagall asked in a tone of outrage, and Snape smiled with a sense of malicious satisfaction. After all, he had asked the same question in the same outraged tone of voice whenever the Headmaster let off McGonagall's Gryffindors with a mere slap on the wrist.

"Well, I would advise the staff not to play cards with Master Satoshi," Dumbledore added in a mild voice. "Especially not for money." Snape was hard put to stifle his laugher as McGonagall spluttered indignantly. "As for the students involved, give them detention to discourage them from such misdeeds in the future."

"I most certainly will!" McGonagall declared in a tone that boded ill for those students, and swept out of the room in a huff. Chizuru smiled, Karasu sighed and shook his head, and Dumbledore winked at Satoshi, who winked back at him. Snape thought to himself that if the tanuki had been a student, he probably would have been sorted into Gryffindor, and resolved to keep a close eye on him from now on.

*** 

Snape was summoned to the Dark Lord's side one night, although Dylan was not, much to Snape's relief. He had actually been expecting a summons; he had recently completed another batch of the Mind Restoration Potion, and he knew that Voldemort would want a report on the new teachers at Hogwarts.

Snape's guess was correct. "Tell me about these new allies of Dumbledore's," Voldemort ordered him. "Gwydion tells me that they have had private meetings with the Minister of Magic and his top advisors, so I know that they are more than mere teachers. What is the old man's purpose in bringing them to Hogwarts?"

"Dumbledore has not confided his reasons to me," Snape replied, "but I think it is no coincidence that all three of these new 'teachers' are non-humans. I believe that he wishes to set an example, not just for the students, but for their parents and the Ministry, to show them that non-humans can live and work on an equal level with humans. The Japanese wizards do not discriminate against those with non-human blood, it seems. In fact, according to my new colleagues, most of the Japanese wizards believe that their powers are derived from non-human ancestors."

"Animal blood," Gwydion muttered distastefully.

Snape refrained from reminding him that he had once been an animal himself, during the three years he and his brother had spent in beast form as punishment for Goewin's rape; the Dark Lord probably wouldn't take kindly to his Death Eaters sniping at one another in the middle of a meeting. So all Snape said was, "They do not regard the shapeshifters and other non-humans as beasts, but rather as semi-divine beings. To them, possessing non-human blood is not a taint, but a badge of honor."

"So," Voldemort said speculatively, "Dumbledore is still trying to build alliances with the non-humans?" 

"It appears so, my Lord," Snape replied. "Though he does not seem to have had much success. Hagrid's mission with the giants was a failure, as you know, and the centaurs refuse to ally themselves with humans, except for Firenze, who has been exiled from his people for proposing to do just that. And it seems that the other non-humans are loathe to help Dumbledore unless--"

"Unless the Ministry grants them equal rights under the law," Voldemort finished smugly. "Dumbledore can parade all the exotic foreign non-human allies he wishes before Cornelius Fudge and his Ministers; their pride will never let them agree to such a thing, at least, not until it is too late!" Snape nodded respectfully. "And how did Dumbledore persuade the Japanese wizards to ally with him?"

"It seems that he has convinced them that you will eventually become a threat to them if--" Voldemort frowned and Snape hastily changed his words to, "--I mean, when you win the war here."

Voldemort smiled maliciously. "We have enough to occupy our attention at home right now, but eventually, yes, we will expand our reach outwards. And someday I will punish Dumbledore's little friends for daring to oppose me." Snape forced himself to remain calm and show no sign of fear or dismay at the thought of Voldemort taking the war to Japan and perhaps harming the Kamiyama family, who had treated Lupin and himself so kindly. "So what are your new colleagues like, Severus?" Voldemort asked curiously, apparently sensing nothing out of the ordinary from Snape. "Do they pose a threat to us?"

"I don't think so, my Lord," Snape replied in a scornful voice. "The tanuki is a clever trickster, but not the sort to risk his hide in a battle. The crane woman is a healer, with no offensive magic; she would be useless in a war, save to tend to the wounded. The tengu is bold and brave enough, but he relies too much on physical strength. He might be able to take down a single mage if he caught him by surprise, but there is no way he could stand against a group of wizards."

"Good," the Dark Lord said with satisfaction. "But keep me apprised of the situation, and alert me if anything changes."

"Yes, my Lord."

"And how did your young charges fare with their 'special tutoring' over the holidays, Severus?"

"Very well, my Lord. I am quite pleased with their progress."

"You taught them Dark Warding and Blood Magic, I believe?"

"Yes, my Lord," Snape replied, being careful to show no surprise. No one other than Dumbledore, Lupin, and the children knew what spells he had been teaching them, so as Snape suspected, Lucius must have been secretly keeping in contact with Draco.

"The Blood Magic is useful, of course," Lucius said. "But as for the Dark Warding...I had thought you would be teaching them more combative spells, Severus."

"There will be time for that later, Lucius," Snape said calmly, "though of course I must be discreet. But I thought it wise to teach the children some protective magic; the more they prepare to assume their adult responsibilities as full-fledged Death Eaters, the more they will need to conceal, from their classmates, from the other teachers, and most of all, from Dumbledore. I thought it best to take the precaution of making sure that they can ward out eavesdroppers and spies. After all, Lucius, you wouldn't want anyone to stumble across--for example--whatever device Draco is using to communicate with you, would you?"

Voldemort laughed a little, sounding amused. "Clever Severus; your thinking is sound as always. Continue as you have been doing."

Snape bowed. "Thank you, my Lord. Yes, my Lord."

"And speaking of the children," Voldemort continued, "I hear Avery's girl has the Healing Gift?"

"Yes, my Lord, she does, although it came as something of a surprise to everyone in the school."

Andreas Avery scowled. "I don't want my daughter learning healing! Whoever heard of a Death Eater who was a healer? The very idea's ridiculous!"

"It could come in useful," Snape pointed out. "A trained healer could have healed Bellatrix without a Sanguis Sanatio spell." Bellatrix glared at him, and several of the other Death Eaters, the ones who had contributed their blood to the spell, shifted uneasily. "Besides, she cannot withdraw from the class without drawing undue attention to herself. Let her learn what she can from the crane woman, and put it to use on our behalf."

"I thought that little Serafina had a talent for hexing," Lucius said thoughtfully as Avery shot him a resentful look. "It seems rather odd that she would also turn out to have a talent for healing."

"I did some research," Snape said; he had also consulted with Chizuru, but he did not tell the Death Eaters that. "Miss Avery is particularly adept at casting hexes that deal with pain and wounding. I believe that she may have been using her Healing Gift in reverse--unconsciously, of course."

"What?!" exclaimed Lucius, and even the Dark Lord looked startled. "Can such a thing be done?"

"Theoretically," Snape said with a shrug. "Of course it runs counter to the mindset of most healers, who abide by the Hippocratic oath to 'do no harm'. But logically, if one knows how to heal, one should be able to reverse the process and inflict harm just as easily. More easily, in fact; it is always easier to destroy something rather than repair it. Of course, to use one's powers in such a way would be considered Dark Magic, and is punishable by death or a sentence in Azkaban, depending on the severity of the offense."

Voldemort looked intrigued. "Very interesting," he said in a musing tone. "Yes, Miss Avery must continue her lessons with the healer. And I wish for you to tutor her in this opposite method of healing."

Snape, of course, having no Healing Gift of his own, could not tutor Serafina in the way that Chizuru did, but one did not tell the Dark Lord that something was impossible if one wished to live. Besides, it should not be impossible; although Snape could not cast such healing or anti-healing spells himself, he had enough theoretical knowledge to at least be able to guide her along in her studies. "Yes, my Lord," was all he said.

"And by the way," Voldemort said casually, as if in afterthought, but Snape knew that almost everything the Dark Lord did was very carefully planned, "I heard you were quite friendly with our old friend Professor Blackmore at the Yule Ball."

_Dammit, I knew that would cause trouble,_ Snape thought to himself sourly. Aloud, he said, "She asked me to dance, my Lord. I tried to refuse, but she was most insistent; I feared further refusal would draw more attention than giving in would."

"And just why was she so insistent upon dancing with you, Severus?" Voldemort asked skeptically. "Can it be that the infamous Branwen Blackmore is enamored of you?" 

The Death Eaters laughed mockingly; Snape ignored them. "No, my Lord, not enamored, but the years seem to have made her softer than I ever thought possible. Her motivation was not precisely romance, but it was sentiment that moved her."

"Explain, Severus," Voldemort said with a frown.

"She harbors regret and guilt, my Lord," Snape replied. He did not like giving the Dark Lord such personal information about Branwen, but she had consented to it, and moreover, made it necessary by that impulsive dance at the Ball. Or perhaps it was more than impulse; he needed to pass along information that Voldemort would consider valuable in order to retain his position as the Dark Lord's "spy," and this, Branwen had told him almost smugly, would certainly qualify. Although he was an adult now and didn't really need her protection, she still seemed determined to mother and protect him, along with Lupin and Black. 

"She suspects that I am still a Death Eater, but she wants to believe that I have changed. She mourns the loss of the students she could not save, such as Rosier and Wilkes, and even the ones sent to kill her, Foley and Riggs. She believes, I think, that if she had said or done something differently, she could have prevented us from entering your service, my Lord."

The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters laughed loud and long. Snape joined in, of course, though he felt no mirth. "How disappointing," Voldemort said, "that Branwen Blackmore should, in the end, turn out to be merely a foolish, sentimental woman after all! She cannot possibly have demon blood; no demon would ever be so soft!"

That was not true, of course. Branwen was part demon, and existed only because her demon forefather had fallen in love with a human woman. Even apart from Branwen's ancestor Araqiel, there were tales and legends of demons falling in love with mortals, although such stories rarely ended happily for the mortals involved. But Snape knew better than to contradict the Dark Lord.

Meanwhile, Voldemort was still chuckling. "Very well, Severus. Continue to cultivate your old Professor, and try to convince her that you are a good little reformed Death Eater."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said obediently, bowing his head.

Voldemort handed over the Mind Restoration Potion to the Donner brothers and dismissed his Death Eaters after that, but motioned for Snape to remain behind. "I would like you to prepare a batch of Strengthening Solution, as well as some Elixir of Vitality."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said, without expressing any of the curiosity he felt.

"You may leave now, Severus," Voldemort said, and Snape Disapparated.

*** 

Alone in his private chambers, the Dark Lord relaxed and let down the glamor he had been projecting, and his form became even more pale and gaunt than usual. The body he had conjured up with Wormtail's help was not a true body, but a magical construct that had to be maintained, and his strength was draining at a more rapid pace than he had anticipated. The potions he had ordered Snape to make would help stave off his degeneration, but it was merely a stopgap measure.

He had not yet sent his Death Eaters on a killing spree, because their numbers had fallen, and they were in a weaker position than they had been in the past, but soon they would have to gather sacrifices for him, in order for him to sustain his body and his strength. This was why his research on Dylan's roses was so important: he not only wanted to control them as a weapon without the Rosier boy's help, but he also wanted to harness the vampiric powers of the roses themselves. He wanted to find a way to feed off the blood and strength of others as easily as the roses did; blood sacrifice accomplished more or less the same thing, but it required a great deal of time and preparation and many complicated rituals to perform correctly. It would be so much easier if he could suck out a victim's life-force and transfer it to himself with a mere touch...

And he suspected that part of his weakness had something to do with the way he and the Potter boy were bound together by the prophecy and the rebounded Killing Curse. The boy had vanquished him once; he needed to return the favor in order to restore himself to full power. And Potter was the only one who could kill him...once the boy was dead, there would be no one to stop him from ruling the world, and whatever he needed--blood, power, even a new body, perhaps--would be his for the taking.

*** 

Snape reported on Voldemort's request at the next Order meeting.

"What does You-Know-Who want with those Potions?" Shacklebolt wondered aloud, a frown creasing his forehead.

"I don't know," Snape replied. "I'm not even sure whether he wants them for himself or for one or more of the Death Eaters."

"Helpful as always, Snape," Moody muttered sarcastically.

"What exactly do these potions do, Severus?" Tonks asked.

Snape heaved a rather dramatic sigh. "I see you have forgotten most of what I taught you in Potions class, Miss Tonks," he said, and the young witch flushed in embarrassment while Black glared at him. 

Snape smirked a little; it was so easy to bait a Gryffindor, like taking candy from a baby, really...but Lupin was also giving him a stern look, so Snape cleared his throat and continued. "Strengthening Solution, as the name implies, gives the imbiber added strength and stamina. It can be used to give one enough strength to perform some task that would otherwise be impossible--lifting an impossibly heavy object or running for miles without rest, for example. It can also be used to temporarily sustain someone who is weakened through illness or injury, but it's no substitute for a healing potion--in fact, it's dangerous to consume it too frequently or in too great a dosage. The potion imparts great strength to the imbiber, but the human body is not meant to sustain such strength. No harm is done with only a small dose and a very short period of heightened strength, but using it for too long can inflict permanent damage on the body. The Elixir of Vitality is a weakened but much safer version of the Strengthening Solution. It imparts a feeling of energy and good health, and contains herbs that help to strengthen the immune system, leaving one less susceptible to small illnesses such as colds or the flu."

"My Great-Aunt Martha swears by it," Dedalus Diggle said musingly. "Has a draught of it once every week. She's still hale and hearty, so I suppose it works."

"That's very nice for Aunt Martha," Sirius said impatiently, "but I'm more worried about what Voldemort wants it for. Could he be planning some mission for the Death Eaters requiring a great feat of strength?"

"Not that I know of," Snape replied, "though of course he does not tell me everything. And that does not explain the Elixir of Vitality. I wonder..." He frowned thoughtfully.

"Care to share your thoughts with us, Snape?" Shacklebolt asked irritably, when Snape did not continue.

Snape shot him a glare, just on principle, but he was too worried to really take offense. "The Dark Lord's current body was built out of blood and bone and Dark Magic. I am just wondering if he requires magic to maintain it."

There were startled exclamations from around the table. Branwen thought it over for a moment, then said, "It's possible. My father taught me that power always comes with a price, and the greater the power, the greater the price. This is especially true of Dark Magic."

"But he's had that body since the Tri-Wizard Tournament, nearly two years ago!" Sirius protested. "And he's never asked Snape for those potions before!"

"I could be wrong," Branwen said with a shrug. "Or perhaps the spell he used to create his body is beginning to deteriorate."

"It isn't permanent?" Tonks asked, looking shocked.

Branwen shrugged again. "No one has done such a thing within living memory; I'm not sure that anyone, even Voldemort, truly understands how such a spell really works. Dark Spells with a long-term effect usually require blood or magic--or both--at regular intervals to sustain them."

"If that's true," Sirius said excitedly, "if old Voldie's losing his strength, then that means he's vulnerable! We might have a chance to defeat him!"

"That also makes him very dangerous," Snape warned. "It could make him desperate. He's kept a low profile since his return, but if he needs to sustain the spell keeping him alive--or embodied, rather--he might start killing victims again in Blood Magic rituals. Or he might get desperate enough to try and strike out at Potter."

Sirius went pale, and Lupin reminded him in a quiet voice, "And Harry is the one who must defeat him. We can help fight the Death Eaters, but Harry is the one who must face down Voldemort, one-on-one, and I'm not sure he's ready for that yet."

"I'm certain that he's not," Snape declared firmly.

Molly Weasley's face was as pale as Sirius's, and she looked terrified; her husband looked grim and worried. They reached out without looking and tightly clasped each other's hands.

"Very well," Dumbledore said in a grave voice. "We must be on guard, and we at Hogwarts must watch over Harry very carefully. Severus, please inform us if you hear anything more from Voldemort or the Death Eaters."

"Of course, Headmaster."

The meeting disbanded, with a very gloomy air.

*** 

Hagrid led his fifth-year Gryffindor-Slytherin class into the Forbidden Forest one day, his students reluctantly following behind and wondering what he had in store for them today. Something nasty with a lot of of sharp teeth, they thought gloomily, because the Gamekeeper was carrying a side of beef on his shoulder.

"I thought it was forbidden for us to enter the forest," Damien grumbled. "Hence, the name 'Forbidden' Forest."

"I'm with yeh, so it's fine," Hagrid said cheerfully. "Yeh don' have ter worry about gettin' detention."

"Well, that's very reassuring," Damien muttered sarcastically, and despite the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor, most of the Gryffindors looked like they agreed with him.

If Dylan had been paying closer attention, he might have guessed what was coming and been able to prepare himself better. But he was distracted by thoughts of the secret Dark Arts lessons from Snape (which had tapered off after school started, but he was still tutoring them, just less frequently), which in turn reminded him of the Dark Lord and the Mark on his arm. Snape had said that the Dark Lord wanted them to learn these spells, and he was worried that meant Voldemort intended to Mark the other Death Eater offspring soon. 

He didn't really care so much about Draco and Crabbe and Goyle, although he wouldn't wish that fate on anyone, but he was very worried about Theo, who often looked frightened and tense these days, and to a lesser extent about Serafina, who seemed like a decent sort despite her odd ways. It was clear that she didn't want to follow in her father's footsteps, so she couldn't be all that bad. And on a more mundane level, he was irritated because Valentine's Day was coming up soon, and he didn't dare send a gift to Hermione. 

Well, maybe he could send it through Lupin, but she shared a dorm room with Parvati and Lavender, so it was probably a risk he shouldn't take, because they might happen to see her open his gift and wonder who it was from. He had seen her wearing the charm bracelet he'd given her for Christmas (minus the rose charm; it was a long shot that anyone would connect it with him, but she was probably wise to leave it off), which cheered him up slightly, but Weasley had been gazing at her with a doe-eyed look ever since the Yule Ball, and Dylan had overheard him making plans to go to Hogsmeade with Hermione and Potter. It wasn't quite a date, but he suspected Weasley was trying to work up enough courage to finally make his move. It was absolutely ridiculous for Dylan, the most popular boy in the school (at least among the girls), to be jealous of homely, scruffy Weasley, but he was...

So, because he was preoccupied with his thoughts, the arrival of the Thestrals took him completely by surprise. Hagrid threw the side of beef to the ground and let out a loud, shrieking cry. A few moments later, a nearly skeletal black horse with leathery bat-like wings appeared, stared at the children with pupil-less white eyes, then bent down and tore into the meat with long, pointed fangs. Dylan gasped and took a step back; so did a Gryffindor girl named Melissa. The other students gave them a puzzled look, then they too gasped with fear and surprise when saw strips of meat being torn away from the side of beef and vanishing into thin air.

"Thestrals!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Very good, Ginny!" Hagrid said, beaming at her. "Five points ter Gryffindor."

"You can see them!" Damien exclaimed sharply, his eyes widening in surprise, and Dylan cursed himself for being so careless; he should have feigned ignorance. He had never been able to see the Thestrals before, but now he could, because he had seen Karkaroff die on Halloween night, slain by Dylan's own roses on the Dark Lord's orders.

"It figures that a Death Eater would be able to see the Thestrals," a Gryffindor boy said in a loud stage whisper. Dylan glared at the boy, but he was even more irked that Hagrid pretended not to hear the remark. Snape, Lupin, and Blackmore would have given detention or deducted points for such a remark, and McGonagall and Flitwick would at least have reprimanded the boy, but the Gamekeeper did nothing. 

He often caught Hagrid giving him suspicious sidelong glances, and he knew that Hagrid had been one of the staff members who had argued against admitting a known Death Eater's son to Hogwarts. In fact, Hagrid was giving him one of those sidelong glances right now. _Probably wondering who I've killed,_ Dylan thought to himself darkly.

The Gryffindors were quietly asking Melissa who she had seen die, and she replied, "My great-grandmother, last summer. She was at St. Mungo's, she had been sick for a long time..." No one, not even any of the Slytherins, asked Dylan whose death he had seen; they were probably afraid of what the answer might be.

Later that night, alone in their dorm room, Damien asked hesitantly, "I didn't know you could see the Thestrals. Whose death did you see?"

"An old family friend," Dylan replied. It was not quite a lie; Karkaroff had been a comrade of Dylan's father, after all, although he didn't know if Evan Rosier had actually considered him a "friend". "He, um, had a terminal disease." Which was only half a lie; Karkaroff had not had a disease, but he had been marked for death when he tried to run from his Master and escape the Death Eaters. For all that it had taken over a year before he was actually killed, Karkaroff had been a walking dead man from the moment he fled the Triwizard Tournament.

"Oh," Damien said, looking as though he didn't quite believe Dylan's answer. But he dropped the subject and didn't bring it up again.

*** 

Hermione sat with Ginny in a secluded corner of the library; she wanted to get some advice from her friend, and she didn't want anyone else to overhear them. "I think Ron, well, likes me," she said in a halting voice, reluctant to voice the words aloud, as if that would make them true. Besides, it was a little awkward saying such things to Ron's sister, but she didn't have anyone else to confide in. "I mean, as more than a friend..."

Ginny smiled and rolled her eyes a little. "That's been obvious ever since your fourth year, when he got so jealous of Viktor Krum. You only just now realized?"

Hermione flushed, looking a little chagrined. "Well, I...we've been friends since first year...I never thought..." she stammered.

Ginny laughed, but in a kindly manner. "I guess it's harder to see when you're personally involved. Okay, so we know that Ron likes you. The question is, do you like him?"

"Of course I like him," Hermione said, looking a little distraught, "but as a friend! I never thought of him that way! I never even considered it a possibility..."

"Well, now that you know, is there any possibility that you could return his feelings?" Ginny asked. "Or..." She gave her friend a shrew look. "Perhaps there's someone else you like?" Hermione blushed. _Bingo,_ Ginny thought.

Hermione bit her lip and began tugging nervously on her charm bracelet. "Well, sort of. But it's not...we can't...I mean, it wouldn't really work out, at least, not right now..."

When the other Gryffindor girls had admired her new bracelet, Hermione had told them that her mother had given it to her, but because Ginny had been with her when she opened the present at Sirius's house, she knew who it was really from. "Is it Dylan?" Ginny asked quietly. To her surprise, Hermione looked more frightened than embarrassed.

"You can't tell anyone that!" Hermione said in a hushed but frantic voice. "It could get Dylan in trouble!"

Ginny frowned. "I know Malfoy doesn't like to see the Slytherins associating with Gryffindors, but Pansy and Millicent seem to have become chummy with Parvati and Lavender, and Damien danced with Parvati at the ball--"

"This is different!" Hermione insisted, still whispering. "I can't talk about it--but it could be dangerous for him!"

"You can't tell me why?" Ginny asked, still frowning.

"I promised--someone--that I wouldn't tell anyone about it," Hermione said miserably.

"Okay," Ginny said, touching her hand briefly. "I trust you, and I know you have to keep your word."

"Thanks," Hermione said gratefully.

"A star-crossed romance sounds really romantic in books," Ginny continued, "but it doesn't seem like it would be very satisfying in real life. I won't try and push Ron on you just because he's my brother, but wouldn't it be more practical to go after a guy who's attainable?"

"You're so practical, Ginny," Hermione sighed.

Ginny grinned. "Funny, that's what people usually say about you!" 

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "And here I am mooning over some boy I can't have!" She touched the bracelet again. "I know Ron's a great guy, and he's one of my best friends, but...you can't make yourself fall in love with somebody just because they'd be good for you."

"I suppose you're right," Ginny said ruefully. "Though it sure would be a lot easier if we could pick and choose who we'd fall in love with! Poor Ron...try and let him down easy, okay?"

Hermione blushed again and changed the subject. "So, what about you and Harry?"

It was Ginny's turn to flush. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, you two got along so well at the Yule Ball..."

"Yeah, but he hasn't treated me any differently since then..."

"That's not really true," Hermione said. "He gets a little flustered and tongue-tied around you now."

"He's just embarrassed that I gave him that goodnight kiss," Ginny said, but she looked pleased. "Besides, I'm totally over him. I mean it was just a crush; I was infatuated with 'Famous Harry Potter,' not the real person. I didn't even really know him at the time..."

"But you know him now," Hermione pointed out. "As a real person, not the Boy Who Lived. And he knows you."

"I'm not going to waste my time chasing after some unattainable boy," Ginny said stubbornly.

"He's not so unattainable," Hermione said in a casual voice. "He's over Cho, you know. He told Michael Corner that he hoped they'd be happy together, and he seemed to mean it." She paused, then added thoughtfully, "I think he might be holding back because of Dean. They're friends, so I think he feels it would be disloyal to go after Dean's ex-girlfriend. You have to give him some time, Ginny. Boys can be so dense sometimes..."

Ginny sighed. "No kidding."

*** 

"Happy Valentine's Day, Severus!" Lupin sang out as he entered Snape's quarters through the fireplace, carrying a large heart-shaped box of candy.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Remus," Snape said, accepting the gift and giving him a kiss, then presented Lupin with a box of his own.

Lupin opened the box and exclaimed with pleasure, "Homemade chocolates?"

Snape grinned, looking a little sheepish. "Yes, I made them myself in my workshop."

Lupin grinned back, remembering the prank Severus, Evan, and Lyall had played on James back in third year. "These don't have any Swelling Solution in them, do they?"

Snape laughed and put his arms around Lupin, pulling him close. "No, I like your body just the way it is..."

As Lupin returned the embrace, he caught a glimpse over Snape's shoulder of a small box wrapped with a ribbon lying on Snape's desk. "What's this, Severus?" he asked in mock-suspicion. "Is someone else giving you Valentine's Day presents? You know how jealous we werewolves can get..."

"Oh, knock it off, Lupin," Snape said, stepping back with a scowl. "It's from Chizuru; you probably got one just like it. It's the custom in Japan, for women to give chocolates on Valentine's Day, not just to their sweethearts, but to their male colleagues. 'Girichoko'--'duty chocolates'. I'm sure she gave them to all the male teachers."

Lupin laughed. "Yes, I got one, too; I was just teasing you." He kissed the tip of Snape's beaky nose. "Hagrid was quite thrilled with his gift."

"Someone should have warned Chizuru that the big oaf might take it seriously," Snape said with a frown. "The way he's been drooling over her..."

"Karasu seems quite protective of her," Lupin said, unconcerned. "I'm sure he'll keep Hagrid from getting out of line." He growled playfully and bared his teeth at Snape. "Now, as I said before, werewolves tend to be jealous, and the wolf is feeling a bit neglected, what with all this talk about Chizuru..."   
"You're the one who brought it up," Snape complained, then gasped as Lupin began nuzzling his throat. Lupin growled in his ear, and he completely lost his train of thought. "Uh...what were we talking about?"

"How jealous and possessive werewolves are," Lupin said in a low, husky growl, his breath tickling Snape's ear.

"Oh...right," Snape said, wrapping his arms around Lupin again. "Well, then, I suppose we'd better take care of the wolf's needs; we can't have a werewolf tearing around the school on a rampage, after all..."

"Sometimes, Severus," Lupin said affectionately, "you talk too much." He cut off Snape's words with a firm kiss, and there was no talking in the Potions Master's quarters (unless one counted wordless moans or cries of passion) for quite some time.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both sides prepare for war, and some will be redeemed, while others will be damned by their actions.

The three friends strolled through the streets of Hogsmeade, but the atmosphere was a bit tense. Ron was uncharacteristically quiet, and kept fidgeting nervously, putting his hands in his pockets, then taking them out, then putting them back in his pockets as if he didn't know what to do with them. Meanwhile, Hermione kept chattering in a falsely bright voice about nothing in particular. "It's a nice day, isn't it? So bright and sunny; a perfect day for a Hogsmeade outing. Oh, let's stop at Scrivenshaft's; I wanted to get a new quill. The black-and-gold one I bought from them last year was so nice--"

"Er, maybe later," Ron said, turning down the street heading towards Madam Puddifoot's tea shop, the customary location for trysting couples. "Why don't we, uh, stop at Puddifoot's for a, um, coffee or something?"

"You don't drink coffee," Hermione pointed out.

"For a cup of tea, then!" Ron snapped. Then blushing, he added in a milder voice, "Just for a bit. I'm, um, really thirsty."

Ron glanced at Harry, who quickly said, "Oh, I forgot I was supposed to...to...um, drop off something at the post office!"

Hermione gazed at him suspiciously. "Why don't you use Hedwig?"

"It's not my letter," Harry said, thinking frantically. "It, uh, belongs to a second-year who doesn't have his own owl. He, ah, asked me to drop it off for him. Look, why don't you two go on ahead and I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

Hermione heaved a sigh of resignation and entered the tea shop with Ron. Harry wandered off, thinking that maybe he'd stop at Zonko's or Honeydukes to kill some time. He was a little worried; he didn't think Ron's "date" was off to a good start, judging by Hermione's reluctance, and he wondered what this would do to the friendship the three of them shared. As he paused outside of Zonko's, he heard someone say, "Hi, Harry."

He looked up and said, "Oh, hi, Ginny."

"Where're Ron and Hermione?"

Harry gestured vaguely in the direction of the tea shop. "At Madam Puddifoot's."

"Poor Ron," Ginny sighed. "I hope she lets him down easy."

"You knew?" Harry asked, startled.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "It was only so obvious. But she doesn't feel the same way about him."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling completely out of the loop. He hadn't even been aware that Ron liked Hermione as more than a friend till the Yule Ball, but then again, he didn't think that Ron had been aware of that himself--consciously, anyway--for much longer than that. Besides, between his regular schoolwork, his Occlumency lessons, and worrying what Voldemort and the Death Eaters were up to, Harry had little time to ponder his friends' love lives.

"Maybe we should go check up on them," Ginny suggested.

"Uh, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Harry said, but Ginny was already heading towards the tea shop, so Harry shrugged and followed her. They looked through the window, and saw the pair sitting at a nearby table. Hermione was speaking, with an earnest and worried expression on her face, and Ron looked crestfallen. Harry was feeling very sorry for his friend, when he saw Ginny's eyes widen in surprise and move towards another table across the room. He looked over and saw Dean Thomas sitting at a table with Susan Bones from Hufflepuff; they were smiling and leaning across the table to talk to each other, their faces almost, but not quite, touching. He looked anxiously at Ginny, but she looked more relieved than offended.

"Good!" she said. "He's finally moved on."

This made Harry feel surprisingly lighthearted, but he didn't have much time to dwell on it. Ron's expression changed from crestfallen to angry. "I suppose you're hung up on Dylan Rosier, like all the other girls!" he shouted, loud enough for Harry and Ginny to hear. The other couples in the shop looked up at them.

"Don't be silly, Ron!" Hermione retorted, beginning to look angry herself.

"It's not like he'd ever look at a Gryffindor girl!" Ron continued, as if he hadn't heard.

"I'm not going to sit here and be shouted at!" Hermione said, rising from her seat. "I'll listen to you when you're ready to be reasonable and stop talking nonsense."

"Nonsense?!" Ron spluttered, but Hermione was already stalking out of the shop. Ginny went off with her to try and comfort her. Harry tried to console Ron, without much success. 

"Women," Ron said in a disgusted voice. "Why's she so hung up on a guy who doesn't want to be seen in public with her?"

"I don't think that she and Dylan--" Harry started to say.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?!" Ron asked indignantly. After that, Harry just listened without saying anything more, nodding sympathetically at suitable intervals.

*** 

When the Slytherins returned from Hogsmeade, the girls were giggling and Draco was smirking smugly.

"What's so funny?" Dylan asked, looking up from the card game he was playing with Theo and Blaise in the common room.

"You're so popular, Dylan," Pansy said in a singsong voice.

"Weasley and Granger were having a fight over you!" Damien said with a grin.

"Ginny and Hermione?" Dylan asked in shock.

"No, you dolt!" Draco said, still smirking. " _Ron_ Weasley!"

"He was pouring out his heart to her in Madam Puddifoot's--" Millicent said.

"Where you and Miles were getting a little cozy yourselves," Pansy said coyly.

Millicent blushed. "Never mind that now; we were talking about Weasley and Granger. So he's confessing his feelings for her, but she tells him that she only thinks of him as a friend."

"Ouch!" Damien said, wincing. "I hate the old 'lets just be friends' speech."

"Don't interrupt," Millicent scolded. "Then he starts shouting at her about how she's hung up on Dylan like all the other girls."

_"Me?!"_ Dylan exclaimed. "Er...what did she say?"

"Oh, that he was being silly and talking nonsense, and then she walked out on him."

"I love it," Draco crowed. "Potter's two faithful sidekicks, fighting over one of us! Never thought Granger cared about anything but her homework, but I guess even she can't resist your charm, Rosier!"

"She's too much of a bookworm for my taste," Dylan said scornfully, and Draco and the girls laughed. His heart was pounding with fear, but he was careful to keep his face calm, and no one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. 

"Eh, I don't blame her for not liking Weasley, though," Damien said, making a face.

"Well, of course," Pansy said, as if pointing out the obvious. "How could any girl, even a Gryffindor, prefer Weasley over Dylan?!"

To Dylan's relief, it never crossed anyone's mind that he might actually return Hermione's feelings, and Draco, far from being annoyed, was actually pleased at the turmoil Dylan was causing--however unintentionally--in Gryffindor House.

*** 

After a few weeks of Ron and Hermione not speaking to each other, Harry was at the end of his rope. He didn't know what to do, but Ginny had a very practical solution. One nice, sunny Saturday morning when everyone else was out of the dorm, Ginny brought Hermione to Ron and Harry's room.

As the two feuding friends glared at each other, Ginny said in a stern, no-nonsense voice, "This has gone on long enough! Your friendship is too valuable for you to throw it away over a petty quarrel!  "But he--" Hermione said indignantly.

"But she--" Ron protested.

"I don't care whose fault it is," Ginny interrupted. "You two are staying here until you work things out!" Then she dragged Harry out of the room--he flashed his friends a helpless, sympathetic look--and slammed the door behind her, sealing it with a ward that could only be removed from the outside of the room.

"The door's locked!" Ron said, jiggling the doorknob.

"I think she's warded it," Hermione said, sounding both annoyed and curious at the same time. 

"Can't you dispel it?!"

Hermione tried, without success. "I think you have to be on the side of door on which the spell was cast. It's probably the same spell Professor Lupin taught us in class."

The two friends stared at each other. "Well..." Ron said reluctantly.

"Well..." echoed Hermione.

"Look, I'm sorry," they both started to say at once, then stopped and laughed a little despite themselves. "You first," said Ron.

"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, Ron," Hermione said. "You're my best friend, and I really, really like you, but--"

"But not that way," Ron finished in a resigned tone. "I know; I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"It's not because you yelled at me that I was so mad," Hermione explained. "But that you said in front of all those people that I like Dylan. I told you before, Dylan would get in trouble if people found out he has a Gryffindor friend!"

"He's Snape's pet," Ron said sullenly. "Snape's not going to let him get expelled just because Malfoy gets into a snit."

"I'm not talking about that!" Hermione snapped.

Ron stared at her in confusion. "Then what are you talking about?"

Hermione bit her lip; Snape had made her promise not to tell anyone what he had told her about Dylan being in danger, but she had to make Ron understand. "Look at it logically," she said cautiously. "Dylan is a Death Eater's son. The Death Eaters are on the loose now."

"So?" Ron said, uncomprehendingly. "He should be jumping for joy."

If the door hadn't been locked with a warding spell, Hermione might have stomped out, but it was, so she took a deep breath, silently counted to ten, and tried again. "Suppose, just for one minute, that Dylan doesn't want to be a Death Eater like his father. Just for the sake of argument."

"Okay," Ron said reluctantly. "Just for the sake of argument."

"How do you think his father's old friends would feel about him getting cozy with the enemy?"

Ron's eyes widened in shock and--finally!--comprehension. "They...they wouldn't like it. Maybe they'd even..." He turned a little pale and swallowed hard. "But that's assuming he doesn't want to follow in his father's footsteps."

"People aren't always what they seem, Ron," Hermione said impatiently. "Snape isn't."

"Yeah, well, I'm still not convinced about him, either," Ron mumbled. Hermione glared at him, and he hastened to add, "But I won't talk about you and Rosier in public anymore, okay? I promise."

"Thanks," Hermione said. "There's nothing to talk about, anyway. There's nothing going on between us. Even if we wanted to...be more than friends...we couldn't. Because of the danger."

She looked so sad that Ron found himself saying, "I'm sorry," much to his surprise. But he was glad he did, because she smiled at him warmly.

"Friends?" Hermione asked, holding out her hand.

"Friends," Ron said, and shook it.

Ginny, her ear pressed against the door, grinned and gave Harry a thumbs-up, then released the warding spell.

*** 

Goewin was about five months pregnant, her belly now forming a visible bulge beneath her robes. She finally understood how Dylan and Ariane must have felt, being virtual prisoners on the estate for so many years; she had not left the house since she had found out about her pregnancy, and felt like she was going to go stark raving mad from boredom and staring at the same walls day after day after day. Of course her family tried to support her: Dylan sent her letters every week from school; Ariane was being kinder to her than normal; and Math hovered over her so solicitously, not wanting her to exert herself in the slightest, that she had to remind him that she wasn't made of glass. She occupied herself with reading, decorating the baby's nursery, and, of course, trying to interpret the visions her unborn daughter was sending her.

The morning sickness had ceased, and Goewin was trying to get enough food and rest to keep the baby healthy, but the nightmares she had almost every night made that difficult, and she could not take a sleeping draught, because Severus and Madam Pomfrey said it would be bad for the baby. She dreamed of blood and battles, dreamed of Dylan and his friends fighting on the battlefield. Sometimes she saw Math and Ariane there as well. But recently she had begun to have different dreams...

"You look so pale, my dear," Math said in a concerned voice one morning. "Another nightmare?"

Goewin nodded. "I saw a serpent and a lion entwined together--as if locked in an embrace or in combat, I'm not sure which. Both, maybe."

"Gryffindor and Slytherin?" Ariane guessed. "Or the Dark Lord and Harry Potter, perhaps, locked in a deadly embrace?"

"I don't know," Goewin said wearily. "But I suppose you should pass it along to the Order."

"We will," Math said. "Did you See anything else?"

"No," Goewin lied. Lately she had begun having dreams even more disturbing than the earlier ones: herself, lying bound on an altar in a dark room, or on the ground in the middle of a circle inscribed with the runes and symbols meant for a blood sacrifice. In her dreams she was surrounded by chanting Death Eaters; sometimes she could see her nephews' gray eyes through the slits in their hoods. Sometimes Voldemort killed her and her baby, which was bad enough, but in the very worst ones, he took her baby from her dying body, and her dream-self knew that he was going to raise it as his own, twisting the innocent child to his own evil purposes. 

Those were the dreams that caused her to jerk awake, soaking in sweat; once she had woke up screaming, but when Math asked her what was wrong, she had said only that she had seen Voldemort winning the war in her dream. What would be the point in telling him the truth, after all? This estate was one of the most well-guarded residences in Britain, and her husband was one of the most powerful mages in the world. There was little more anyone could do to make her safer than she already was, so telling Math about the dreams would only make him worry needlessly. She would mention them only if she saw some way in which they could be prevented. Maybe as the baby grew older, the dreams would become clearer...although Goewin was not sure if she wanted to see them.

*** 

As the weeks passed, Snape was kept very busy with his duties to the school, to the Order, and to the Dark Lord; it was not easy, sometimes, serving two masters. In addition to his normal lessons, he was still tutoring Potter and Dylan in Occlumency, and the Death Eater offspring in the Dark Arts, although he had reduced their lessons to no more than once every week or two--for fear of arousing suspicions, he told Draco when the boy began chafing at the slow pace of those lessons.

He and Dylan had been summoned a couple of times, when the Dark Lord wanted Dylan to harvest more of the rose blossoms for him, and the last time, Voldemort had also wanted to "harvest" Dylan's blood. He nicked the boy's wrist with a knife, and filled a small flask with the blood; enough to make Dylan go a little pale, but not enough to make him faint. The boy had borne it without flinching or otherwise showing any fear, which made Snape proud of him, but he worried about what uses the Dark Lord might put that blood to. Most likely to try and harness the power of the roses himself, but as any experienced mage knew, it was dangerous to allow part of your essence to fall into the hands of an enemy. A simple strand of hair had caused Tonks so much trouble when a Death Eater had used it in a Polyjuice Potion to impersonate her, and blood could be put to even worse uses; there were many Dark Spells that allowed the caster to inflict harm upon someone if he had a little of the victim's blood. 

But there was nothing Snape could do except to worry, and wait. Sometimes the waiting drove him crazy; he had been waiting for over fifteen years for the war to reach its final conclusion. Yet at the same time, he dreaded the day of the final battle, because no one, not even a Seer such as Miyako or Goewin, knew how it would end.

He was kept very busy brewing potions in his workshop; there was the Mind Restoration Potion to be brewed for the Donner brothers, and Voldemort continued to request a steady supply of Strengthening Solution and Elixir of Vitality. In addition to this, he of course had to brew the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin, and the Headmaster had requested that he begin brewing it in greater amounts. He was trying to win over the non-humans--or at least the werewolves--with a gesture of good faith, it seemed. 

Snape was beginning to feel stretched thin, so he drafted Dylan's help. Since his uncles' status among the Death Eaters was no longer a secret, it was safe for Snape to explain to Dylan about the Mind Restoration Potion and how it was brewed--although Snape smiled a little at the irony of turning their work for the Death Eaters into a lesson. But the boy might as well learn something while he was working; no knowledge was ever wasted, so the saying went. He also had Dylan help him with the Wolfsbane Potion.

The boy found the work challenging and enjoyable, but as always, he was quick to pick up on details that other students might have overlooked. "Why are we brewing so much of this?" Dylan asked. "Surely Professor Lupin can't drink all this in one month! It looks more like a year's supply!"

Snape sighed, torn between pride and irritation at the boy's quick wit; he really was too clever for his own good sometimes. "It is shortsighted, Rosier," Snape said in his usual cold voice, "to make only enough to last for the current month. What would happen if I fell ill and could not brew next month's supply, or if the current batch was somehow ruined? Unlikely, you might say, but I prefer to be prepared for the unexpected. I want to always have a more than adequate supply on hand; the consequences of Lupin missing his potion could be devastating."

"Yes, Professor," Dylan said meekly, looking properly chastised, and asked no more questions about the Wolfsbane Potion. But Snape had no doubt that behind that meek look, the boy's mind was still puzzling over the matter and drawing its own conclusions--possibly even the correct one.

Snape also tutored Serafina in her anti-healing lessons, as Voldemort had ordered. At their first session, Snape explained how she had been using her Healing Gift in reverse.

"Professor Chizuru also told me that, sir," she said quietly. "She was most distressed. She said a healer must never use their Gift that way, that it's evil."

"Evil is relative, Serafina," Snape said in a dry voice. "I'm not saying that you should use it lightly--and indeed, I shall punish you most severely if I catch you using your Gift to play pranks on your classmates." It wasn't very likely that the girl would abuse her Gift in such a way (although no doubt Draco would if he had it), but the warning came out of his mouth almost automatically. Serafina just nodded obediently. "But," Snape continued, "if your life were in danger, I wouldn't advise you to ponder the morality of using your Gift to inflict harm--at least not until after the danger had passed."

Serafina gave him a thoughtful look and then nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Did Professor Chizuru explain how healing magic works?"

"Yes, sir. Energy flows through the body in a certain pattern; she calls them 'meridians'. When a person is ill or injured, the healer directs the flow of energy to the sick or injured parts of the body, thereby encouraging the body to heal itself faster."

"Very good. And if you should disrupt this flow of energy?"

"Depending on how severely and how long you disrupted the flow of energy, it could cause any reaction between mild discomfort and death," Serafina replied in a toneless voice.

"Demonstrate for me upon this rat," Snape instructed her.

She cast the spell, one similar to the Aperio spell, that enabled her to see the natural energy of a living being. She was still a beginner at healing magic, but she was able to disrupt the energy flow, sending it off in random directions. The rat began to tremble, then make little squeaks of distress. As it began to go into convulsions and a tiny thread of blood began to leak out of its mouth, she asked in an expressionless voice, "How long do you want me to keep this up?"

"You may stop now," Snape said, watching her carefully. Serafina immediately broke off the spell, and the rat lay on its side, gasping for breath. "You didn't like doing that," Snape observed in a conversational tone.

"No," she replied, almost defiantly, and Snape blinked in surprise at that rare hint of emotion. "But I am able to do things I do not like."

Snape smiled, just the slightest upward curving of one corner of his mouth, but Serafina noticed, and it was her turn to stare at him in surprise. "Good," he said.

"Good that I don't like doing it?" Serafina asked, staring at him intently. "Or good that I'm able to do it even though I don't like it?"

"Both," Snape replied, and the girl's eyes grew even wider. This was deadly serious business, but Snape felt pleased that he'd broken through her shell a little. By now he was certain that she had no wish to join the Death Eaters, but she could still put his cover and his life in jeopardy if she let it slip to her parents that Severus Snape did not revel in pain and torture like a good Death Eater should. 

However, he could not win her over without taking certain risks, and she wasn't really the type to go gossiping carelessly about it; he had never observed the girl at her home, but he was quite sure that she was just as taciturn there as she was at school. "I don't wish for you to enjoy it, but neither do I want you to be so squeamish that you can't perform these spells if it becomes necessary." She remained silent, so he continued, "You did very well, but of course it is much easier to perform these spells on a small creature like a rat than on a human. And you are much more likely to need to protect yourself from a human than a rat."

"And you are teaching me these spells solely for my protection?" Serafina asked, with just a hint of sarcasm. Snape was pleased rather than annoyed, because it was a sign that she'd begun to trust him, or at least he hoped so. She had never let her guard down this much before.

"It is one of the reasons," Snape said softly.

"And the others?" Serafina persisted.

"My reasons are my own," Snape said, quietly but firmly. "As what you do with these spells is up to you."

For just a second, the girl's mask slipped, and he saw shock, hope, fear, and suspicion all mingled on her face. Then her normal blank expression was back on her face. She looked down at the rat and said in her usual toneless voice, "I think it will die unless I heal it," as if it didn't matter to her one way or the other.

"It was destined for the Owlery," Snape said casually, but he was very interested to see what she would do next. "However, you may heal it if you wish."

"No point, if it's just going to be eaten," she said; she seemed to be watching for his reaction just as carefully as he was watching for hers.

Snape shrugged. "Then put it out of its misery. Or...you can keep it, if you like. Losing one rat won't cause the owls to die of starvation."

He had startled her into showing an emotional reaction. "Wh...what would I do with a rat?" she asked, looking a little flustered.

"You don't have a familiar, do you? Every student is allowed to bring a toad, rat, owl, or cat to school."

She stared down at the rat, then lifted her wand and cast the healing spell. It sniffed at her hand, seeming to understand that she had relieved its pain, and she hesitantly stroked it with one finger. Then she suddenly jerked her hand away and said, "No! I can't keep it!"

Snape was startled to hear such a vehement response from her. "Why not?" he asked.

She looked visibly upset for the first time in all the years he had been teaching her. "Because...because...I can't keep a pet! It would make me look soft! If you care about something, people can use it against you as a weapon!"

Snape felt a sudden stab of pain at hearing her words, so similar to the words his father had drilled into his head as a child, that only weak people were ruled by sentiment. He had spent most of his life fighting his feelings for Lupin because he had feared being weak and giving someone else control over him, because Slytherins were taught that emotions were a weapon to be used like any other. He wondered despairingly if every Slytherin child held that belief, that loving someone created a hostage to fortune that an enemy could use against you. No, some of his Slytherins were soft and spoiled, but Draco was probably the only one among the Death Eater offspring who had not yet learned that lesson firsthand.

"We are talking about more than a rat, I think," Snape said in a gentle voice that none of his students other than Dylan had ever heard. Maybe that was what shocked her into opening up to him, or maybe she was simply near her breaking point. Snape knew better than anyone what it cost to always keep your emotions hidden, showing nothing to the outside world, no matter how much you wanted to shout or scream or cry...

"When I was seven," Serafina said, shaking a little, "the neighbor's cat had kittens, and they gave me one. A proper familiar for a young witch. He was all black except for a white spot on his chest, and I named him Grimalkin, Grim for short. He followed me around everywhere, slept on my bed at night. He loved me, and I loved him, and I made the mistake of letting my father see that. One day I was petting Grim while he lay in my lap, and my father came and snatched him up. He said that a familiar wasn't a pet to be babied and coddled, and that I'd never become a Death Eater if I could go so soft, especially over a stupid beast. Then he broke Grim's neck with his bare hands. I wanted to cry, but I didn't, because I was scared he'd kill me, too."

Snape wanted to reach out and lay a hand on her shoulder, as he might have done for Dylan or Theodore, but she was looking spooked and skittish, like a wild animal, and he was afraid such a gesture might scare her off. So he settled for saying softly, "I'm sorry, Serafina." It seemed completely inadequate; all these years, Nott and Avery had been tormenting their children, and Snape had done nothing about it. The fact that there was not much he could have done was of little comfort to him.

Well, he was trying to help them now, however belatedly, and there was one small thing he could do. He picked up the rat, and Serafina looked up in alarm. "Don't worry, Miss Avery, I'm not going to feed it to the owls," he assured her. Then he scowled at the rat; what was he going to do with the creature? It wasn't as if he could be caught having a pet anymore than Serafina could. "I'll give it to the werewolf," he decided. "Lupin is such a soft touch, he'd feel sorry even for a scrap of owl bait."

Her eyes flew open wide for a moment, then narrowed in thought. This was now the third time he had mentioned Lupin in her presence, and this time he had done it deliberately. He was not ready to come out and openly declare that he was not a true Death Eater, but he knew that she was smart enough to figure out that if his relationship with Lupin was not as hostile as it seemed to be, then Snape was probably not quite what he appeared to be on the surface, either. After a long silence, she finally said, "Thank you, Professor."

"You're welcome," Snape replied, and she gave him a very small smile, but considering who it was coming from, he considered it something of a miracle.

Later, he snuck into Lupin's office to give him the rat. Lupin stared at it dubiously. "I don't know, Severus; whenever I look at a rat, I can't help but think of Peter. Guilt by association, I suppose, and not fair to the poor rat, but still... Why on earth did you feel the need to save this particular rat from the owls or your Dark Arts lessons, anyway?"

Snape explained about the tutoring session with Serafina, and Lupin's blue eyes went wide with shock. "My goodness!" he exclaimed, looking down at the rat with new respect. He took the animal out of the wire cage Snape had carried it in, and gently stroked it. "You're certainly a little miracle worker. Hmm...I think I'll name you 'Kiseki'--'miracle' in Japanese."

Snape grinned. "I knew you were a soft touch, Lupin."

"You owe me one, Severus," Lupin retorted.

"Very well, Lupin," Snape responded readily. "How would you like me to return the favor?"

Lupin put Kiseki back in his cage and warded the room. "Well," he said, grinning back at Snape, "You could start by taking off your robes..."

*** 

Lupin had begun asking his students to take turns remaining behind after classes to help clean up the room (making sure to teach some spells that created a mess). Draco and some of the other Slytherins complained that this was house-elf work, but Lupin insisted, and they did it, because by now Draco had figured out that Snape wasn't going to oppose Dumbledore and his pet teachers on "trivial" matters.

Lupin also made appointments for each of his fifth, sixth, and seventh-year students to see him privately in his office so that he could discuss their progress and make sure they were ready for their O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s. It was all an elaborate excuse, of course, for him to be able to spend some time alone with the Slytherin students he and Severus were trying to save. When Draco was not around, Crabbe and Goyle were surprisingly agreeable; as bulky and intimidating as they must appear to be to the younger students they bullied (he had heard them being compared to mountain trolls more than once), to Lupin they seemed like overgrown puppies, eager for a kind word and a bit of praise. Theodore was much more reserved, but Lupin felt the boy was very gradually beginning to warm to him; he even smiled once, when Lupin had complimented him on his progress. 

Draco kept up his sneering, arrogant act, but he seemed almost happy to sit in Lupin's office and accept a cup of tea. Lupin didn't say much, just said that he was very pleased with Draco's progress (and indeed, he was doing very well in class), talked about the kinds of questions that might appear on his N.E.W.T. exam, and complimented him on the Slytherin Quidditch team's success. (Buoyed by their win over Gryffindor, the Slytherin team was playing better than ever, and had won their match against Ravenclaw.) 

Then, as Draco preened with pride, Lupin listened to the boy brag about his prowess on the Quidditch field and in the classroom. It was the sort of thing that would make his Gryffindor classmates roll their eyes, but beneath the bravado, Lupin could hear the insecurity of a child looking for some praise and attention. In fact, Draco was much more loquacious than Lupin had anticipated, and he heard a hint of loneliness in the boy's voice; he suspected that Draco really wanted to be telling all these things to his father, although he knew (and he suspected that Draco did, too) that Lucius would not be particularly interested in the mundane details of his son's activities at school. So Lupin merely smiled and listened attentively. 

There was one detail about Draco's ramblings that intrigued Lupin; he was taking pride in performing well in Master Karasu's class, which for the most part didn't even involve magic. Lupin found it quite interesting that Draco, who was usually the epitome of the pureblood snob, took pride in his work in a non-magical class, and more than that, clearly took pride in his non-human teacher's compliments. Lupin smiled inwardly; he had never thought that the fierce, blunt-spoken tengu warrior would be able to win over Draco Malfoy, but perhaps Karasu was more subtle than he appeared at first glance. Draco seemed to be surprised at how long he had been sitting in Lupin's office, when he finally noticed that his tea had grown cold, and flushed and muttered something about needing to leave. Lupin smiled and said, "I've enjoyed our little chat, Draco. Please feel free to stop by and have some tea with me again sometime."

Draco scowled, and gave Lupin a sharp look, as if trying to determine whether his teacher was making fun of him or not. He finally seemed to decide that Lupin's offer was genuine, and growled, "Maybe." Then he left, slamming the door behind him. Lupin grinned, feeling almost cheerful; that was progress, after all--certainly better than an outright refusal. And Lupin was both stubborn and patient; it had taken him nearly two decades to win over Severus Snape, but he had done it. By comparison, his progress with Draco was positively speedy.

Serafina sat quietly in his office during her conference, not volunteering any information, and offering only monosyllabic answers to his questions. But Lupin noticed that her eyes kept darting over to Kiseki where he sat in his cage on Lupin's desk. No one among the staff or students seemed to think it strange that he had adopted a pet rat that managed to escape from the Owlery at feeding time (for that was the story he had put out)--proof that Severus was not the only one who considered him softhearted. It was rather amusing, actually, that people who would once have feared him as a monster now thought he was a bit of a soft touch. That was progress of a sort, Lupin supposed.

Lupin took the rat out of its cage and allowed it to climb on his shoulder. He handed it a treat and stroked it affectionately; he had become quite fond of his pet despite its unfortunate resemblance to Peter. Well, actually Ki was much sleeker and less mangy than Scabbers had been, so he didn't really resemble Lupin's traitorous friend that much, after all.

Serafina watched him with an odd look in her eyes that Lupin couldn't quite read. He knew from what Severus had told him that she feared becoming emotionally attached to anyone or anything, yet she had saved the rat. She reminded Lupin of Severus, and it broke his heart to see how some of the pureblood families had raised their children to view love as something to be feared and despised.

"Where did you get your new pet from, Professor?" Serafina asked.

Lupin blinked in surprise at hearing his uncommunicative student actually speak without being prompted. He hesitated for a moment, trying to decide how much to tell her; he had not told anyone that Severus had given him the rat, but Serafina already knew who it came from, of course; she was probably testing him to see if he would tell her the truth, or maybe she was trying to find out how much Severus had told him. Lupin smiled pleasantly and replied in a casual voice, "Oh, Professor Snape gave him to me. Leftover from one of his experiments or something. He knew I was the only one other than Hagrid softhearted enough to adopt it, I suppose, and Fang would make a mouthful out of poor Ki."

Serafina's eyes narrowed. "I thought you told Draco that you got it from the Owlery."

Lupin continued to smile and said cheerfully, "Well, of course Severus would have a fit if I let anyone think he was softhearted enough to spare the life of a lab rat. He has a certain reputation to live up to, after all, while I have none." To his amusement, Serafina looked positively dumbfounded; he was quite sure that none of the Slytherins had ever heard anyone refer to their Head of House as "softhearted" before, even in jest.

She recovered her composure quickly. "You named it 'Ki'?"

"Yes, short for 'Kiseki'. It means 'miracle' in Japanese."

"Why would you name a rat 'miracle'?" Serafina asked sharply.

Lupin smiled at her calmly. "Why, isn't it obvious? He ought to be owl food or potion ingredients, yet by some miracle he survived to live out a life of leisure as the pet of a softhearted werewolf."

"Why do you care what happens to a rat?" Serafina demanded. "Why do you care what happens to us?"

_My, my,_ Lupin thought, _she's quite talkative today._ Aloud, he said, "'Us'?"

"The Slytherins," she replied, with a look that said she knew that he knew perfectly well what she meant.

Lupin petted Ki and said softly, "Perhaps because as a werewolf I know how it feels to be a misfit and an outcast."

"We don't need your pity," Serafina snapped.

"There is a difference between pity and understanding, Serafina," Lupin said, still in that quiet, serious voice. He wasn't sure if it was trust so much as it was stress that was causing her to open up to himself and Severus; the Death Eater offspring were under a great deal of pressure. From all the things Severus had reported to the Order, Lupin had the uneasy feeling that the final confrontation with Voldemort was coming soon, and he suspected that the children sensed it as well. "I would never pity you, Serafina. Rather, I admire your courage."

"Courage?" she asked suspiciously.

Lupin repressed a sigh. The Gryffindor children were so open and trusting, while the Slytherins were so wary; whenever they saw a smiling face, they seemed to look for a dagger hidden behind the back. But it only increased Lupin's desire to love and protect them. "I know things must have been difficult for you," Lupin explained, "with your father being arrested, and the way some of the other students have taunted you. No one could blame you if you responded in kind, but you did not, and kept your temper and your dignity." And he also admired the strength it must have taken to survive her abusive childhood, but of course he could not tell her that, since he was not supposed to know about it. Then he smiled and added, "Except for that incident with the Hufflepuff boy who ran afoul of a wart-hex."

"There was no proof that I did it," Serafina replied calmly.

"No," Lupin admitted, but his eyes twinkled with mischief. "Just as no one could prove that he was the one who caused your ink bottle to explode."

"Three of my books were ruined!" Serafina said, so indignantly that Lupin had to suppress a laugh. She might be afraid to love people, or even a rat, but she did love her books with a passion. That craving for knowledge also reminded him of Severus.

"You were able to replace them, I hope?" he asked mildly.

"Yes, sir," she replied a bit sullenly. "But it's still a waste of a good book."

"You're right," Lupin agreed. "I couldn't afford to buy many books as a child, so I treasured the ones I had. As a werewolf, I was denied contact with other children until I came to Hogwarts, so I had no friends. But through my books I found escape; I could imagine myself to be a brave knight on a quest, or the servant boy who is actually a prince in disguise..."

"My father doesn't approve of novels," Serafina replied. "He says they're a waste of time that would fill my head with nonsense."

Despite his earlier words to Serafina, Lupin had to fight back a surge of pity. But he did not let it show on his face; instead he grinned and winked at her, saying, "Somehow I doubt you let that stop you." He was rewarded with a very small, nearly imperceptible smile. "For all that they are fiction, there is an inner truth in the old tales that resonates within our hearts, or they would not have survived for so many generations: the stories of the Greek gods and heroes in the Iliad and the Odyssey, the legends of King Arthur, Shakespeare's plays of love and betrayal." He reached out and plucked a book from the shelf behind him. "Here; this is a book of legends dealing with Japanese shapeshifters. It is technically fiction, but you can still learn something about how their magic works from it, so I would consider it quite educational, especially in light of the fact that you are being taught by three shapeshifters. Well, four if you count me."

She hesitated, but he could tell by the longing in her eyes that he had found her one weakness; if Dylan's was his father, then Serafina's was her love for books. _Severus would tell me I'm being as devious as a Slytherin,_ Lupin thought in amusement. It was too bad that the Gryffindors couldn't see that Slytherin traits were not always a bad thing.

Serafina gave him a suspicious look, as if wondering if there were some kind of catch attached to this gift, but in the end, she could not resist, and accepted the book. "Thank you, Professor. I'll take good care of it."

"I'm sure you'll guard it fiercely from exploding ink bottles," Lupin replied with another wink, startling her into another smile, a wider one this time. She was really quite pretty when she smiled, especially with those extraordinary violet eyes; it was a pity she didn't do it more often. "Keep it as long as you like."

"Yes, sir," she said. "Thank you. May I be dismissed?"

"Of course. But please feel free to stop by anytime, to talk about class, or just to discuss a good book over a cup of tea."

Serafina nodded and left. Lupin fed Ki another treat and said, "I think you are a good luck charm, my little miracle worker."

*** 

Between teaching classes and worrying about the Slytherins, Lupin still had certain duties to perform for the Order. One day, accompanied by Arthur Weasley and Karasu (who had reluctantly agreed to trade his Japanese clothing for more conventional wizards' robes in order to avoid attracting attention), Lupin ventured into a seedy section of London located near Knockturn Alley, carrying a large basket. A number of shifty-looking characters eyed them as they passed by, making Arthur very nervous, but a glare from Karasu would cause them to turn away and shrink back into the shadows. Although Lupin was capable of defending himself, he still felt glad that the tengu had insisted on accompanying them as a bodyguard.

Arthur glanced at the scrap of paper in his hand, then looked at the number on a dilapidated apartment building. "This is it," he said. "Our...friends...are in the basement apartment." They descended a rusty staircase, and Arthur knocked on the door, calling out, "It's me, Arthur." A yellowish-green eye peered out through the peephole in the door, then they could hear the sound of locks turning and a chain being pulled back, and the door opened. They entered the room, which was filled with a number of people who looked no less shifty and dangerous than the ones they had encountered on the way here; the man who had opened the door was particularly dangerous-looking, with a lean, wiry build, greasy shoulder-length blond hair, a couple days growth of beard, and feral-looking eyes.

The man nodded curtly at Lupin. "Remus."

Lupin nodded back, in a more polite manner. "Hello, Lukas."

One man looked less dangerous than the others, a young man with dark brown hair, dressed in clean but shabby robes, who seemed a bit afraid of his companions. Lupin recognized him as the patient who had shared Arthur's hospital room, the one who had been bitten by a werewolf.

"Hello, Brian," Arthur said cheerfully. "You remember Remus, don't you?"

Brian smiled bitterly. "Yes, I remember. So that's why you were so nice to me--because you were a werewolf, too. For all I know, it was you who bit me."

"Brian!" Arthur said indignantly.

"It wasn't him," Lukas said, locking the door and leaning casually against the wall. "Don't be an idiot. You told me the wolf who attacked you had black fur; Lupin's hair is brown, and thus his fur would be, too."

"Well, it might just as well have been him--or you, or any of your 'pack'!" Brian retorted.

"Remus is a good little wolf," Lukas said, with a faint hint of contemptuous amusement in his voice. "He always takes his potion, like a good tame dog."

"Yes, I do," Lupin said with a pleasant smile, not allowing the other man to bait him. He had plenty of practice, after all; Lukas was pretty good at insulting people, but nowhere near as good as Severus. He set down the basket on the table that the other werewolves were gathered around. "And I have brought the potion for you and your friends, as promised."

"They're not my friends," Brian muttered.

One young woman with short, spiky black hair snapped, "Then what are you doing here, if you're too good to hang around with the likes of us?"

Brian glared at her. "I have nowhere else to go, and you know it, Kyra!" He turned to Lupin and said, "I had everything--a family, a good job, a beautiful fiancee--and now I have nothing! I lost my job, my fiancee left me, my family wants nothing to do with me...the only people who will associate with me are other outcasts and monsters like me!"

"Oh, stuff it, you little whiner!" Kyra snapped. "At least you have a job!"

"Yes, I suppose I should thank you for that, Arthur," Brian said grudgingly. "It probably wasn't easy finding a person willing to hire a werewolf."

"You're welcome," Arthur said with a smile. He had gotten Brian a job in a used bookstore; the owner was a former classmate who owed him a favor. "How are you getting along?"

Brian shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Mostly I work in back in the stockroom; they don't want the werewolf scaring the customers out front..."

"Whine, whine, whine," muttered Kyra.

"It's not a bad job," Brian admitted. "But I'm a stockboy, for Merlin's sake! I was a young partner in a good firm, eventually set to inherit my father-in-law's business and now--"

"Yes, yes, your dreams for the future went poof, just like the rest of us," Lukas said in a bored voice. "But of course we have Remus as a shining example of how a werewolf can get a respectable job--as long as one has a powerful patron, of course. Have you come to make us more promises you cannot keep, Lupin?"

"I have made you no promises, Lukas," Lupin replied in a level voice. "Dumbledore and the Japanese emissaries have been trying to persuade the Ministry--"

"To grant us equal rights, but they still have not," Lukas finished. "So tell me, why should we fight and die for the people who despise us?"

"Not everyone despises us," Lupin said quietly. "Though I will admit that most of the Ministry officials are ignorant bigots. But there are people like Arthur and Dumbledore who have stood by me as my friends no matter what."

"And Remus's students love him," Arthur added in a hopeful voice. "Even if their parents are prejudiced, the younger generation is learning to look beyond those prejudices."

"Lovely," Lukas said. "Come see me in ten or twenty years, when those children have grown up, and maybe I'll change my mind."

"We don't have ten or twenty years," Lupin said. "Voldemort will strike before then." Arthur, Brian, and most of the other werewolves flinched nervously at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, but Lukas didn't even bat an eye. "If you think life under the Ministry is bad, Lukas, it is nothing compared to what life will be like if the Dark Lord rules the world. There will be nothing but blood and death and terror. He will kill all those who oppose him and enslave the rest. Do not think that you will be spared this fate just because you do not fight on our side; Voldemort despises fence-sitters."

"Then maybe we should join the Dark Lord's side," one of the werewolves said defiantly. 

"Go ahead, if you want to become his lapdogs," Lupin retorted. 

That finally got a reaction from Lukas, whose head jerked up, an angry look in his eyes. He bared his teeth and snarled at Lupin, "We are no one's lapdogs! Not Dumbledore's and not the Dark Lord's!"

Karasu, who had been watching all this silently, finally spoke. "Go ahead and fight amongst yourselves. This Dark Lord will destroy you all while you do so. If we do not stop him now, we never will. He will conquer your country, then extend his reach outwards until it reaches even my corner of the world. That is what our Seers have seen."

"Seers," Lukas snorted dismissively, but he looked at Karasu with a certain respect in his eyes, one predator recognizing another.

"Do it not for the Ministry," Karasu said, "but for yourselves and for your children, who will die if you are lucky, and live as slaves if you are not."

"Maybe the Dark Lord would treat us better than the Ministry," said the werewolf who had spoken before. Lukas cuffed him sharply, and the werewolf subsided, sullenly rubbing his ear.

"We are no one's slaves!" Lukas snapped.

"The Dark Lord might make you promises," Lupin said in a quiet voice to the werewolf who had suggested joining Voldemort's side, "but he will not keep them. He despises all who are not pureblooded, and we have tainted blood--at least in his eyes, and the eyes of his followers. I may not have been able to offer you much, but remember that at least I have been honest with you and offered no false promises."

"Yes, that is true," Lukas acknowledged, with grudging respect. "I will think upon your words, Remus, but I still do not intend to spill my blood or the blood of my people if I get nothing in return."

"You will get something," Karasu pointed out. "Your lives and your freedom."

"I am not sure that I would call what I have now 'freedom,'" Lukas said. "Perhaps we will run off and live in the woods as wolves, and thus escape both your Ministry and the Dark Lord." He spoke in a light, almost joking tone, but his eyes held no laughter, and were blank and unreadable.

"You would never do that, Lukas," Lupin said gently. "If you were the type to go feral, you would have done it long ago. You value your humanity, or you would not have clung to it for so long, despite the monthly transformations and the self-mutilation. If you were not more man than wolf, you would not have gathered these people to you, to give them a sense of family and belonging."

"Perhaps that is the wolf in me," Lukas retorted. "Perhaps I am merely gathering a pack around me."

"Perhaps," Lupin agreed. "But that is one of the good traits of the wolf--loyalty to the pack. I have my own pack, Lukas, and I would give my life to protect them."

Lukas just grunted, looking annoyed and a little embarrassed. "Well, thanks for the potion, Lupin, but it won't make me change my mind."

Lupin smiled. "I will continue to bring it, no matter what you decide."

"Unless the Dark Lord kills him," Karasu pointed out sardonically. "Think upon that, Pack Leader. If Remus and his friends are killed, who will make your Wolfsbane Potion?"

"We can manage without it if we must," Lukas said, but he seemed a little taken aback.

"Yes, but it's much nicer to pass the full moon without being chained or locked up, isn't it?" 

"Enough!" snarled Lukas. He unlocked the door and held open it for them. "Good day, Remus. Perhaps you can leave the crow at home next time."

"Not a very pleasant man," Arthur observed after they left. Lupin started to say something, then decided it was better not to discuss these things in public; one never knew who might be listening.

When they reached the safety of Grimmauld Place, Lupin told Arthur, "You are right; Lukas is not a pleasant man. Years of hardship and prejudice tend to make one bitter. But deep down, I believe he is a good person. He gathered those werewolves together, gave them a home and a place to belong. They all work to support each other, sharing food and shelter with those of the pack who are unemployed. And the companionship they share seems to ease the stress of their transformations slightly."

"He is a strong leader," Karasu observed, "to have gathered all these people together, to have won the trust of people not normally inclined to trust anyone."

"Yes," agreed Lupin. "He is the one we must convince. The Pack Leader, as you so astutely pointed out. The others will follow his lead. He is stubborn, though, and distrustful, not without cause."

"Providing them with the potion was a good start," Karasu said.

Arthur shook his head. "It's criminal that the government won't provide it to anyone who needs it!" The Wolfsbane Potion was available through St. Mungo's or apothecary and potion shops, but only to those who could afford it. And since most werewolves had difficulty finding steady employment, many of them could not afford it, and had to undergo their monthly transformations under restraint, rending their own bodies with teeth and claws.

"Yes," Lupin agreed quietly. "I am very fortunate to have access to the potion myself." Then a thought occurred to him. "Even if the Ministry is balking at granting us equal rights, perhaps they could be persuaded to provide the Wolfsbane Potion to all the werewolves who need it. That, Lukas might find worth fighting for. I'll mention it to Albus."

"I'll support your idea, Remus," Arthur said. "Not that I have much influence, though more than I used to when Lucius Malfoy worked at the Ministry. It's a practical suggestion; werewolves who are taking the potion are unlikely to attack anyone. The problem is, it would cost money to subsidize such a program."

"And the Ministry doesn't like to shell out gold for the likes of a few mangy non-humans," Lupin said bitterly. Even his good nature had its limits, or perhaps Lukas's cynicism was rubbing off on him.

Arthur patted him on the shoulder, saying, "Don't give up, Remus. Perhaps Albus can find some sponsors to help finance the program, or volunteers willing to help brew it, for free or at a reduced cost."

"I'm sure Naoto would be willing to help, too," Karasu said. "We did offer aid such as healing potions to the Order. He can't brew enough for all the werewolves in England by himself, but he and some of the teachers at Mahou Gakkou could at least help brew some potion for your friend Lukas and his pack."

"Severus has several promising young students who are capable of at least assisting with the brewing," Lupin said, cheering up a little. "Perhaps we could start some sort of program at Hogwarts." Then he laughed. "Though I'm sure Lukas would complain about being the guinea pig for some wet-behind-the-ears cub's homework assignment!"

*** 

Dumbledore badgered the Ministers until he got some grudging and halfhearted cooperation; the Ministry agreed to finance half of the necessary funds for a Wolfsbane Potion distribution program if Dumbledore could find sponsors willing to put up the other half. It took a great deal of time and effort to do so--many businesses made charitable donations to benefit their public image, but helping werewolves was not a very popular cause. Still, with a little persuasion and a little bullying, Dumbledore managed to scrape up--just barely--the necessary funds. A few people did offer their help willingly: Lupin's inventor friend--who had created the magical music boxes and recording spheres--was flush with new wealth, and eager to support Dumbledore's pet project; and Mr. Jigger, the owner of Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, offered to sell them ingredients at cost, with no markup.

Snape was quite impressed when he heard that. "Jigger always drives a hard bargain; never thought he was the charitable type."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind their half-moon glasses as he smiled and said, "People are not always what they appear to be, Severus, as you should well know. Besides, Hogwarts is a good customer of Mr. Jigger's; he probably feels it wouldn't hurt to earn my goodwill. After all, even if he's not making a profit on the ingredients, he isn't losing money on them, either."

"Now that makes more sense," Snape said with a cynical smile.

"You should have more faith in human kindness, my boy," Dumbledore said, and Snape snorted. 

But whatever the hidden reasons were behind the sponsors' generosity, they managed to get the distribution program working. Snape put some of his more talented Advanced Potions students to work brewing the potion, "On Dumbledore's orders," he said sourly, complaining loudly about the Headmaster's softheartedness to his classes. 

Lukas was mildly impressed, but more with Lupin's and Dumbledore's tenacity than by the Ministry's show of goodwill, which he knew was lukewarm at best. "I know this is more Dumbledore's work than the Ministry's," Lukas said.

"It's a start, Lukas," Lupin told him. "Whatever the reasons, whoever is behind it, at least our people are benefiting from it."

Lukas's eyes softened slightly as he regarded his pack, who looked much healthier and relaxed now that the Wolfsbane Potion was easing their transformations. "A start," he agreed. "But only a start. It's a grudging gift, like a bone tossed to a dog. For that I should send my people out to fight and most likely die? You know, don't you, that going up against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters is tantamount to suicide?"

"There are fates worse than death," Lupin said quietly. "You must do as you think best, Lukas. For myself, I will fight, to protect my loved ones."

Lukas nodded, looking thoughtful. The werewolf leader was still not ready to commit, but Lupin felt they had made some progress with him.

Evidently, the Dark Lord thought so, too. Not long after the potion distribution program went into effect, the Death Eaters sent messages to Lukas and his followers, promising power and glory if they joined the Dark Lord's side, and a painful death if they did not. This did not sit well with Lukas, who did not take kindly to threats, but he gave them the same answer that he gave Lupin, that he would think about it. The Dark Lord was not pleased with that, and his anger caused him to act rashly and make a major mistake.

The body of one of Lukas's pack members was dumped on the doorstep of their apartment building one morning. Ironically, it was the young werewolf who had suggested joining the Dark Lord during Lupin's earlier visit. His wrists and ankles were bound with silver manacles, and his clothes were torn and soaked with blood although the only visible wound on his body was his slit throat. Lukas felt a surge of rage when he saw that, and nearly transformed on the spot, for all that there was no full moon in sight. Lycanthropes healed nonfatal wounds quickly, and he knew that the Death Eaters must have tortured the werewolf before inflicting the fatal blow. The pain would probably have provoked a transformation even though the moon wasn't full, which explained the silver manacles, which they must have used to restrain the wolf. Lukas threw back his head and howled in anger and mourning. From the apartment windows, the other residents of the building looked out in surprise and then fear, and quickly retreated, drawing back the curtains. Lukas didn't care what they thought; this place was no longer safe, and they would have to move, anyway. That same day he sent Lupin a message that said only: "We will fight."

*** 

The Dark Lord was growing restless and impatient, and a little desperate. The potions Snape was brewing for him were becoming less and less effective, and soon he needed to supplement them with blood in order to maintain his strength. He sent his Death Eaters out to capture victims to be sacrificed--Muggles, at first, because their disappearances were less likely to be noticed in the wizarding world. They took people who were not likely to be missed, even among the Muggles--homeless people, runaways, prostitutes, and drug dealers--people who vanished every day without anyone noticing or caring. But the sacrifice of a normal person did not provide anywhere near as much power as that of a wizard or magical being, so he sent his Death Eaters to the Forbidden Forest to hunt unicorns for their blood, which had sustained him when he was forced to share Quirrell's body. That turned out to be his second mistake.

A centaur patrol happened upon the Lestranges just as they had slain a unicorn. Enraged, the centaurs attacked, but were no match for the Death Eaters, who slew them all except for one young centaur who was little more than a boy; this would be his first and last patrol. Rabastan was about to finish him off when Bellatrix stopped him. 

"Let him die slowly, a long and lingering death, with his hope fading to despair even as the blood drains out of his body," she said, and her brother-in-law and husband laughed along with her in sadistic pleasure. "It's a pity we won't be able to stay behind and watch," she added, giving the boy a mocking kiss on the forehead before they gathered the unicorn blood they had come for, and departed.

The young centaur was too weak to summon up enough strength even to spit at Bellatrix as she taunted him, but he clung to life long enough to be found by a second patrol of centaurs, who had gone out when the first did not return on time. When asked who had done this to him, he whispered, "Three wizards in black robes," and died. All this still might have made no difference, except that the boy was the son of Bane, the leader of the centaurs. After several days of heated debate and seeking signs in the stars and in the fire, they finally sent a message to Firenze, who was still living in exile at Hogwarts...

*** 

Voldemort was feeling stronger now, sustained by blood and magic, but it was still only a temporary measure. He could not return to full strength and power until he had slain the Potter child--but how? Killing a half-trained wizard ought to be child's play, but the boy had escaped certain death time and time again. Voldemort needed an edge, some advantage against the boy...but what?

Finally Voldemort decided to brew a Prophecy Potion in an attempt to see the future and how he might prevail over Potter. Snape was the best potion-brewer among all his Death Eaters, better even than the Dark Lord himself, so he should have entrusted this task to his servant, particularly since the potion was a complicated one that called for ingredients that were poisonous in the wrong dosage. 

But Voldemort did not quite trust Snape, although he wasn't sure why. He couldn't quite put his finger on it; he had never detected a lie in Severus, never picked up anything from him but the appropriate amount of fear and reverence. Voldemort suspected that Snape served more out of fear than reverence, but that didn't matter to him as long as his servant remained loyal; fear was better than reverence at inspiring obedience, anyway. There was also the fact that Snape had worked for Dumbledore for the past fifteen years, of course, but Voldemort had been dead (or so everyone had believed), and Severus, like Lucius, was a prudent man who would be quick to cast his lot with the winning side. Now that Voldemort had returned alive and embodied, he was reasonably sure that Severus feared him more than Dumbledore.

But...Severus did not like to kill. He never flinched at the sight of death, but neither did he take pleasure in it as the Lestranges did. Voldemort suspected that Snape had a secret streak of honor, much as Rosier and Wilkes had. That was useful, because that sense of honor had kept Rosier and Wilkes loyal unto death, but it was also a weakness. Lucius Malfoy had no such weakness, and although it made him more dangerous, Voldemort respected him for it--at least as much as he ever respected any of his minions. But Severus had watched carefully over Evan Rosier's son, and Voldemort suspected there was a little more to it than simply grooming a future Death Eater or even nurturing a promising Potions apprentice. 

One could not say that Snape had been close friends with Evan Rosier and Lyall Wilkes, but they were the closest thing to friends that he had seemed to have in the old days. Voldemort thought it might be loyalty to his old friend's memory that made him watch over Dylan so closely; very touching, but it was a weakness, and Voldemort did not like weaknesses, and love was the worst weakness of all. Love made people do foolish things: a young heiress renounce her family and fortune for a Death Eater lover, a mother sacrifice her life to save her child. 

Voldemort was not sure that Severus's feelings for Dylan were strong enough to be called "love," but he took too much of an interest in the boy's safety, and to a lesser extent, the safety of his other students, for Voldemort's comfort. He still remembered how quickly Snape had reached for his wand when the roses had attacked Dylan. What might one do to protect a child one loved? Betray one's master, possibly...? Voldemort did not really think that Severus would be that foolish, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Besides, resorting to the Prophecy Potion might make him seem desperate, and the Dark Lord knew better than to appear weak before his followers.

So Voldemort locked himself up in his private chambers, telling his cringing servant Wormtail that he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances, and began brewing the potion. He very carefully measured out the proper amounts of hellebore, belladonna, and henbane into boiling water; all three herbs were poisonous, and could prove fatal if the dosage was off by even a fraction of an ounce. Not that Voldemort could truly die, but losing this body, as fragile and unsatisfactory as it was, would be a major inconvenience. Once the potion was properly brewed, steeped, and strained off, he poured it into a goblet and drank the bitter, foul-smelling mixture.

The room seemed to be spinning around him, and the goblet fell to the floor with a loud clatter. The Dark Lord joined the goblet a moment later, writhing in violent convulsions and foaming at the mouth. The last rational thought he had before the effects of the potion overwhelmed him was, _Perhaps I should have let Severus brew it, after all..._

In his thrashings, Voldemort knocked over some of the furnishings in his room, although he was not aware of it at the time. Outside the door, Wormtail trembled as he listened to the sound of loud crashes and his Master howling in pain or anger. He wondered if the Dark Lord was working some sort of magic that had gone horribly wrong. But the Master had said not to disturb him "under any circumstances," and Wormtail was not foolish enough to disobey and risk his wrath. He quietly crept away, looking for a dark corner to hide in, thinking that it would probably be prudent not to be around when the Dark Lord finally emerged from his chambers...

Meanwhile, Voldemort was lost in a series of visions that blurred and slipped away before he could grasp hold of them: Professor Dumbledore, as he had been over fifty years ago, regarding a young Tom Riddle with suspicion; James Potter raising his wand defiantly; Lily Potter, clutching her baby to her chest, pleading with him for mercy; Evan Rosier embracing his Ravenclaw lover; a beautiful young woman with red hair, who looked much like Lily Potter...

"No!" snarled Voldemort. "This is the past! I want to see the future--show me how I can defeat Potter!"

Everything went red and hazy, and he realized he was seeing through a filter of blood; it was everywhere, soaking his robes, dripping from his hands, spilling over his face and into his eyes. He wiped at his eyes impatiently, although he knew this was a vision and not reality; he looked out upon a battlefield strewn with the corpses of both allies and enemies, but he did not see the one body he wished to see...

"Potter!" he shouted. "Show me how to defeat Potter!"

Another series of visions, more chaotic than the last: a flock of crows; a pack of snarling wolves; tangled vines bearing sharp thorns and red roses; a serpent entwined around the body of a lion, who seemed to be trying to claw at the serpent...

"Yes!" hissed Voldemort. "Show me more!"

The vision blurred and coalesced into a single, clear image: a newborn baby girl with dark hair. The baby slowly opened her eyes--eyes that were solemn and wise, not the eyes of a mewling infant, eyes that were an odd but familiar shade of silver-gray...

He knew somehow that this child was vital to winning or losing the war, and strained to see more, but even as he tried to cling to consciousness, the vision slipped away and everything went black...

Voldemort awoke several hours later on the floor of his chambers, stiff and sore, and weak as a day old kitten, with a vile taste in his mouth, but inside he was filled with a sense of triumph. He crawled over to a wooden chest at the foot of his bed, which being made of heavy, sturdy oak, had fortunately not been knocked over during his seizure. He opened it and pulled several bottles from it with trembling hands, and downed in quick succession a bottle of Elixir of Vitality, two bottles of Strengthening Solution, and a flask of unicorn blood. Ironically, even as the Strengthening Solution replenished his energy, it served to weaken his body in the long run, but Voldemort didn't care. All he had to do was survive long enough to defeat Harry Potter, and then all the power in the world would be his.

Restored to something approaching normal strength, Voldemort pondered the vision. The child was a Donner, no doubt about it; those silver-gray eyes were unmistakable. But whose child? He considered the possibilities logically; blonde hair and gray eyes ran in the Donner family; the child had gray eyes but black hair--like Dylan. But it was unlikely, though not impossible, that Dylan could have fathered a child at Hogwarts. Unless this was a vision of the far future, after Dylan had married or taken a lover? 

No, Voldemort sensed that the vision he had seen would come to pass very soon. The baby was not Dylan's, then. No woman would touch Gilbert, since he was still believed to be a half-wit, and Voldemort knew that Gwydion had no lover at present; he kept close tabs on his reluctant servants, particularly since Gwydion had started getting friendly with that Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Ariane had remained faithful to the memory of her long-dead lover, and in any case was kept locked up on her uncle's estate where she was unlikely to meet many suitors. 

Which left only the two elder members of the Donner clan: Deirdre and Mathias. Deirdre had been widowed for many years, so it was unlikely that the baby in the vision was hers, but Mathias had a young and comely wife...a wife with black hair. 

A sense of exultation filled the Dark Lord: that was it! The child was the daughter of Mathias and Goewin, and now he thought he knew why it was so vital to the war: Goewin had once had the Sight, and such powers also ran in the Donner line, so it was likely that the Gift of Sight would be twice as powerful in the daughter, the combined heritage of both parents. With such a strong Seer, he could predict any move Dumbledore would make, could discover how to defeat Potter without resorting to the dangerous Prophecy Potion.

He flung open the door of his room and shouted for Wormtail. It was time to summon his Death Eaters, two in particular--Gilbert and Gwydion Donner. But there were two that he would not summon: Severus and Dylan. Of course, Dylan could much more easily find out if Goewin was pregnant, and if necessary, lure her into a trap, than his uncles could, but Dylan might balk at such a task. Dylan was a flawed vessel, one like his father, weakened by love. He loved his mother, and he appeared to love his great-aunt; he might be stupid enough to rebel if Voldemort tried to harm one of his loved ones. 

Of course, he could kidnap Ariane again, and use her to force Dylan to do his bidding; that would be amusing, to force Dylan to choose between two people he loved--but Voldemort preferred to keep Dylan blindly loyal and obedient for now, especially since he still needed the boy to control the roses. No, he would let the Donner brothers try their hand at it first, and keep the boy in reserve. And since Severus could not be trusted where Dylan was concerned, he too must be kept in the dark for now.

When Gwydion and Gilbert were standing before him, Voldemort asked, "Have you been in contact with your uncle of late?"

"No," Gwydion said sullenly, "he forbade me to step foot on his estate the summer before last, after we quarreled about Dylan. He chose that bastard brat over his own flesh and blood--"

"I don't care about your little family squabbles, Gwydion," Voldemort interrupted in a dangerous voice, and Gwydion fell silent. "I want you to find out--without drawing undue attention to yourself--if your aunt is pregnant."

"WHAT?!" screeched Gwydion.

"I have used my magic to seek visions of the future," Voldemort said calmly, not revealing the toll those visions had taken on his body, "and I believe that your aunt will give birth to a child with the Sight, one that could help sway the outcome of the war in our favor."

"B-but Uncle Math is _old_ ," Gilbert blurted out without thinking.

Voldemort gave him a patronizing look. "Dear me, I must have a talk with Severus," he said. "It seems that the potion is not working properly, because you still seem to be a half-wit." Gilbert flushed. "Age means little to our kind, Gilbert; you should know that. After all, Dumbledore is more than twice as old as your uncle, and he's still quite spry."

"Yes, but Dumbledore isn't running around fathering babies," Gwydion said caustically.

"Yes, well, Dumbledore doesn't have a pretty young thing to warm his bed like your uncle does," Voldemort retorted. "At any rate, I want you to find out if she really is pregnant or not. Make a show of reconciliation with your uncle if you must." Gwydion scowled, though he did not dare openly object, and Voldemort added, "It is to your benefit to discover the truth, because the child in my vision was a girl, and you know what that means." Gwydion went pale, and Voldemort smiled in a rather nasty way. "By the laws of inheritance, that child would become the heir instead of you, since the Donner title is passed through the female line. Your mother was able to disinherit Ariane because she associated with the Death Eaters even if she was not actually convicted of being one herself. But she has no such power over Mathias, who is a well-respected member of society, and I think he would fight her in court if she tried to rob his daughter of her birthright. Especially since it means he could still leave his own estate to his dear great-nephew, Dylan..."

Gwydion was now red and fuming with anger. "And if my aunt is pregnant, what do you intend to do with her and the child?"

Voldemort smiled. "Be assured, that no matter what I decide, the child will be no longer be a threat to you."

Gwydion smiled grimly and bowed. "I will eagerly do your bidding, then, Master."

*** 

But that was easier said than done. His mother still wanted nothing to do with her brother, and he could not enlist her help without making her suspicious. He took the risk of sending a conciliatory letter to his uncle, not quite apologizing (because that would be out of character), but saying that he wished to let bygones be bygones. He suggested that they get together for dinner; Math neatly sidestepped his efforts to visit the estate by offering to treat him to dinner at a restaurant in London. They made polite small talk; Math complimented Gwydion on gaining his position at the Ministry, and Gwydion casually asked how Goewin was doing.

"She's fine," Math said with a smile.

"She did not wish to accompany you tonight, Uncle?"

"You and she are not the best of friends, Gwydion," Math said with a gentle smile. "I think she felt dinner would go more smoothly if she were not here."

Gwydion was annoyed, but it was a plausible enough excuse; surely Math didn't suspect anything...did he? Pressing the issue would certainly raise suspicions even if there had been none before, so all he said was, "Well, that is true enough, Uncle. But I do not wish to be at odds with you even though I do not approve of her choice of heir. We are family, after all."

"It gladdens my heart to hear you say that, Nephew. I hope someday you can view Dylan as family, too; it is not his fault that his parents made foolish choices in their youth."

Gwydion gritted his teeth, thinking, _If only you knew that your precious great-nephew is a Death Eater like his parents!_

"But I do not wish to fight with you tonight," Math continued. "So let us agree to disagree for now."

"Agreed," Gwydion said, attempting to smile pleasantly. _Well, that was a complete waste of time._ He was sure that with time he could win Math's trust, but that could take weeks, and he didn't think that the Dark Lord was willing to wait that long.

So he began making subtle inquiries, which was easy enough since the people in his mother's social circle loved to gossip about their peers. They were doubly eager to gossip about a family feud--as long as Deirdre was not around to hear it. And they thought it was touching that Gwydion was still concerned about his uncle despite the rift between his mother and her brother. He also made contact with some old acquaintances in Wales; he had spent a great deal of time there as a boy, before the falling out with his uncle over Goewin's rape, and he still had friends who lived there.

Slowly he pieced together the scraps of information he received from his various sources: no one had seen Goewin in public since November, during the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match at Hogwarts. Mathias and his wife tended to keep to themselves, but did venture into the local village or into London on errands from time to time, but no one had seen Goewin in months, which was rather odd. The concerned villagers inquired after Goewin when Math came into town, but he merely smiled and said that she was busy with some research, or that she was feeling a bit under the weather but that it was nothing serious. 

Finally, Gwydion found the confirmation he was looking for. Math had brewed some healing potions for the local clinic when one of the village children fell seriously ill--the sort of generosity that had made him very well-liked among the villagers--and the child's mother had gone up to the mansion with a home-baked pie as a thank-you gift. Math accepted the gift with appreciation, but did not invite her in for a cup of tea as he normally would have done. As the woman was leaving, she happened to glance up and catch a glimpse of a woman--merely a silhouette outlined behind the curtains as the sunlight fell through the window. The silhouette showed a very rounded figure, and gossip spread very slowly and quietly through the village, that Master Donner's wife might be with child. No doubt they were very anxious about the pregnancy, since twenty years had passed with no sign of a child up until now. Perhaps the pregnancy was a difficult one, if Goewin needed to be confined to the mansion for bed rest for so long; they probably didn't want to make the news public until they were sure that she would be able to carry the child to term. 

The villagers were fond of the Donners, so they kept their silence and waited anxiously for the announcement of a birth. But one young man, who had been Gwydion's playmate as a child, saw no harm in passing on the rumor to Math's nephew. The feud between Mathias Donner and his sister was a sad thing, after all, and the birth of a child might be just the catalyst needed to set a family reunion into motion. 

Gwydion triumphantly reported the news to his Master, who seemed very pleased. "Good work, Gwydion," Voldemort said. "If she was pregnant in November, when she was last seen in public, she must be coming due soon--probably within the next month or two. We should capture her now."

"Now?" asked a startled Gwydion. "Why not wait till the baby's born?"

"Math will only set up stronger protections around the child once it is born, if he suspects its importance, and he must, if he has kept his wife's pregnancy a secret all this time," Voldemort answered impatiently. "Besides, I don't want Dumbledore's side having access to the child's Sight; it's possible that Goewin could be having visions even now." Gwydion looked startled, and Voldemort smiled grimly. "Ah, you didn't know that, did you? It is very rare, but not unheard of. Since Goewin had the Sight herself once it makes her more receptive to the baby's visions, so long as the child is connected to her in the womb. Something must have alerted old Math to the significance of this child, after all."

"Can a child in the womb have visions?" a stunned Gwydion asked.

"If the Gift is strong enough," the Dark Lord replied. "Perhaps the child might even See that you are a traitor to your family, Gwydion. So you see how important it is that we not let that power fall into the enemy's hands."

"Yes, my Lord," Gwydion said in a shaky voice.

"As a family member, you can get closest to them without arousing suspicion. I want you to lead the kidnapping mission."

"But my uncle doesn't fully trust me," Gwydion protested. "And I've done some reconnaissance work; his estate is more heavily warded than ever! I don't think I can break through the wards alone--"

"You may take as many Death Eaters as you need," Voldemort snapped. "But you will find a way to do it, do you understand me, Gwydion? For a clever boy like you, that should not be a problem."

"Yes, Master," Gwydion said, dropping to his knees, knowing it would be suicidal to argue further. "Please give me a little time to come up with a plan. I...I want to do this properly; it must be carefully thought out if it is to succeed."

"Very well," the Dark Lord said reluctantly. "You have a week, no more."

After they returned home, Gwydion told his brother, "We have to get Math away from the estate; that's our only chance."

"He's not going to fall for the same trick twice, Gwydion," Gilbert protested, recalling how his brother had lured Math away from the estate over twenty years ago with a false report of a Death Eater attack.

"No," Gwydion said with a frown. "And he's not likely to trust the likes of me...unless..." He thought for a moment. "One thing might lure him out--if Mother or Dylan were seriously ill or injured..."

"Dylan is a Death Eater," Gilbert said nervously. "The Dark Lord will never let us harm him. Besides, how would we get into Hogwarts?"

"Then it must be Mother," Gwydion said slowly.

"Gwydion!" Gilbert cried in horror. "You're not seriously thinking of harming Mother?!"

"The Dark Lord will kill us if we don't do this, Gil," Gwydion said grimly. "And Mother would kill us if she found out we've joined the Death Eaters. Besides, it's not like we're going to kill her...we'll make sure that she's badly injured, but survives. Yes, I think that is the only way...the feud will even work in our favor; Math will rush to his sister's bedside. He won't want her to die with bad blood still lying between them. We might even be able to get our dear little sister to leave the house, too, and then Goewin would be all alone and unprotected."

"Gwydion," Gilbert whispered, with horror in his eyes.

"This is the only way, little brother," Gwydion said solemnly. "Trust me." Gilbert stared back at him helplessly; he knew in his heart that they were doing a very evil thing, but what else could they do...?

*** 

The Death Eaters began making small hit-and-run attacks--all part of Gwydion's plot to make his mother's "accident" more plausible. A clinic that distributed Wolfsbane Potion was burned down; a Muggle-born wizard's shop was broken into and trashed; a wizard who had taken a Muggle-born wife was murdered on his way home from work. Graffiti written in blood-red paint began appearing around town: "DEATH TO BLOOD TRAITORS" and "STAND WITH US OR AGAINST US--ALL TRAITORS WILL DIE". Finally, an attack was made on a small coffee shop popular with the wealthiest pureblood women, one Deirdre Donner frequented regularly...

A house-elf ran into the living room shouting, "Master Donner! Master Donner, the mirror in your study is blinking!"

The mirror in Math's study was not the one he used to communicate with the Order, but rather his normal method of communicating with friends, colleagues, and--before they had become estranged--family. The old wizard was surprised, but not overly concerned until he activated the mirror and saw his nephew's face. "Gwydion! What's wrong?"

Gwydion's face was streaked with tears and his eyes were red. "It's Mother," he gasped. "She's badly hurt--a Death Eater attack. The Healers...they...they don't think she's going to make it. She's asking for you and Ariane..."

"If this is some kind of trick, Gwydion--" Math said suspiciously.

"My mother's dying!" Gwydion shouted, and his anger and grief seemed to be genuine. "Call St. Mungo's if you like; I don't have time to play games with you! I just called to relay my mother's dying wish; you may do as you please!" Then he broke off contact and the mirror went blank.

Math wasted no time contacting St. Mungo's; a frazzled-looking receptionist confirmed that there had been some kind of attack, and there were several badly injured patients, including Deirdre Donner, registered at the hospital. When she realized who she was talking to, a slightly more sympathetic expression crossed her face. "I think you should hurry, Mr. Donner," she said softly. "The doctors are doing everything they can but, well..."

Math broke off contact and looked up to see his wife and niece standing behind him. "I checked the Wizard Wireless Network, Uncle," Ariane said quietly. "There really was an attack on that coffee shop Mother goes to every afternoon..."

"You must go, Math," Goewin urged. "You can't let Deirdre die without making peace with her!"

"This could still be a trick," Math protested, looking torn.

"Gwydion would never do anything to hurt Mother," Ariane said, but she didn't look quite convinced of that.

"He might not have anything to do with the attack himself, but we can't take the chance that the Dark Lord might manipulating both him and us--"

"Go, Math!" Goewin urged. "I'll call the Order and have them send someone to stay with me."

"I'll go see Deirdre as soon as our backup arrives," Math said.

"I'll stay with Goewin until they come," Ariane promised. "And then I'll go see Mother, too."

Math hesitated. "Well..."

"Go!" Goewin said. "Before it's too late! Ariane is a formidable mage; we'll be fine, and someone from the Order will be here shortly."

"All right," Math reluctantly agreed. "But call them right away!"

"Yes, dear," Goewin said.

"Please...if I don't come in time...tell Mother I love her," Ariane whispered.

"I will, dear," Math said gently, and Disapparated.

Goewin used her mirror to contact Dumbledore, who looked concerned and promised to send help right away. "You should not have let Math leave," he scolded.

"His sister is dying, Albus!" Goewin said indignantly.

"It would not help anything if harm befell you as well, Goewin," Dumbledore said firmly. "I'll send Branwen and Remus over shortly; they should just be finishing up with their classes."

But in the time it took to call Dumbledore, and for him to summon the two Order members to his office, the Death Eaters struck.

Gwydion had brought Gilbert and several other Death Eaters with him: Malfoy, Avery, Nott, and the Lestranges. They battered the wards with the strongest Dark Spells they possessed, having no need for subtlety; this was to be a quick snatch-and-run operation, and it didn't matter if they set off alarms or attracted attention. Goewin had just cut off contact with Dumbledore when the Death Eaters burst into the house, shattering the windows and blowing the front door off its hinges.

Ariane cursed and pulled out her wand, quickly throwing up shield spells and wards of protection around herself and Goewin.

"Hello, Sister," Gwydion said with a smile.

"You traitor!" Ariane screamed. 

"Look who's talking," Lucius Malfoy said coolly. "You are supposed to be on our side, Ariane."

Ariane ignored him. "You!" she snarled at Gwydion. "After the way you turned on me, you went and sold your soul to the Death Eaters! You killed our mother to help them take Goewin!"

Gwydion went a little pale. "They weren't supposed to hurt her so badly," he said defensively. "I told them to be careful..."

"Enough with the family reunion," Bellatrix interrupted. "Hand over Goewin, Ariane, and we'll spare your life."

"No!"

"If you won't do it for your own sake," Lucius said smoothly, "do it for Dylan's."

Ariane went pale, but held her ground. "Dylan is safe at Hogwarts."

"I can get to him at any time," Lucius taunted.

"If you touch my son, I'll kill you!"

"You'll have to survive first!" Lucius retorted, and the Death Eaters began attacking her shields. She was a good mage, and Goewin helped to reinforce the shielding spells, but the two of them could not hold out against the strength of eight combined wizards. The shields fell, and Ariane went on the offensive, while Goewin, who was not trained in combative magics, did her best to protect herself.

"Crucio!" Ariane shouted, and Avery fell to the floor, writhing and screaming.

"I see you remember your lessons!" Lucius shouted, hurling a curse of his own at her. "What made you switch sides, Ariane?" She lunged to one side, but it grazed her, opening a bloody gash on her arm and staining her white robes red. She didn't flinch, but immediately shot back another spell at him. A dagger-shaped beam of red light hit him in the shoulder, knocking him to the ground. He clutched at the wound, screaming in pain. "You bitch!"

Then Ariane was hit simultaneously by two spells cast by Gwydion and Rodolphus Lestrange, and fell to the floor, unconscious. "Let's finish her off," Bellatrix said with a grin.

"NO!" shouted Gilbert, and the other mages turned to stare at him.

"A Death Eater cannot be soft, Gilbert," Lucius said quietly.

"I--I don't care about Ariane!" Gilbert said, thinking quickly. As low as he had sunk, he could not stoop to killing his little sister. "Leave her here to take the blame--she was once a Death Eater, maybe Math will think she was behind the attack!"

"Good thinking, little brother!" Gwydion said, clapping him on the shoulder, and Gilbert felt sick to his stomach. 

By now, Nott and Rabastan Lestrange had managed to disarm and bind Goewin. They prepared to depart as Branwen and Lupin rushed into the room. Lucius went pale when he saw his old Professor; he had no desire to take on the woman who had slain three Death Eaters single-handedly, and abruptly Disapparated. The other wizards followed suit as the two Order members hurled spells at them; they heard a cry of pain, indicating they had hit someone, but it was too late. The Death Eaters all vanished, along with Goewin.

Math appeared a moment later. Overwhelmed by the sight of his sister lying in a hospital bed near death, it had taken him a few minutes to realize that his nephew, who had expressed such concern about his dying mother, was nowhere in sight. He surveyed the wreckage of the room, the unconscious body of his niece, and the stricken faces of his two fellow Order members. "Oh no," he whispered.

*** 

The Death Eaters took Goewin to Voldemort's hideout. They did not harm her, but locked a Squib Collar around her neck so she could not use her magic. But then Voldemort ordered them to take it off after he realized it was interfering with the visions. It did not make much difference; she was helpless without her wand, which had been left behind at the mansion, and she had no talent for the combative magics, anyway.

"My husband will find me," she said defiantly, trying to show none of the fear she felt.

"Perhaps," Voldemort said, unconcerned. "But not in time. The child has been sending you dreams, has she not?" Goewin tried not to react, but she must have flinched, because he smiled and nodded. "Yes, I thought so. You will prophesy for me, dear, and tell me how I can win the war."

"Never!"

Voldemort laughed. "Ah, such spirit! Quite admirable, but you will have no choice, my dear."

She was taken to a small room and tied to the bed within it. Goewin could not prevent a flash of fear from showing in her eyes, and Voldemort laughed again. "Do not worry, my dear. None of my Death Eaters will lay a hand upon you, on my orders. I want you alive and well for now." Then he set up a brazier in the middle of the room, burning rare herbs and incense, and she knew what he intended to do.

"No drugs," she pleaded, forgetting her pride and defiance. "They might hurt the baby...please..."

"Ah, love is such a weakness," Voldemort observed, sounding amused. "It makes a proud woman beg, makes a protective husband leave his wife's side...it makes fools of you, my dear. But do not worry; the herbs would be dangerous if ingested, but the smoke should not harm the baby, which is why I am burning them rather than forcing you to take a potion. I would not want you to have a miscarriage, after all. At least, not until I find out what I need to know."

Goewin fought to remain awake and alert, but drug-laden smoke soon put her into trance. She forgot who and where she was, and became lost in the visions...

Voldemort forced himself to wait patiently; this process could not be rushed. That was why he had not bothered to use his Legilimency on her; attacking her mind might destroy it, and her mind needed to be intact in order to receive the visions. Besides, she had not left her husband's estate for over six months, and Dumbledore would not use a pregnant woman as an agent in the war, particularly one with no skill in combative magic; she probably knew little that was useful apart from the visions, anyway.

"Blood...blood everywhere..." Goewin muttered deliriously. "Dylan...ah, no, please don't let him die..."

She rambled incoherently, mostly about blood and battles and snakes and skulls; nothing the Dark Lord didn't already know. He still needed to keep her and the unborn child healthy, so at regular intervals he let her rest and eat before putting her into trance again. She was too weak to fight him, and besides, he knew she wanted to keep her baby healthy. If she had not been pregnant, no doubt she would have fought, would perhaps have refused food in an effort to starve herself to death, but he knew that she would eat and cling to life for the child's sake, still hoping that a miracle would happen and someone would rescue her.

Finally, a few days after her capture, she said something that caught Voldemort's attention. "The lion and the serpent," she whispered. "Locked in an embrace...locked in combat...bound in love and bound in death..."

The lion and the serpent; that had to stand for himself and Harry Potter! "Tell me more," Voldemort hissed.

Goewin could not hear him in her trance, but she continued to speak of the visions she saw. "I see a lake...and a forest...it's the school...Hogwarts...Hogwarts is the key..."

"What?!" Voldemort shouted.

Goewin babbled on, paying him no heed, "Hogwarts is the keystone of the wizarding world; remove it and everything else will fall. The final battle will take place on the school grounds..."

"Yes!" Voldemort hissed triumphantly. This was what he wanted to hear! 

"I see the children on the battlefield," Goewin whispered. "Dylan...Draco...the other Slytherin children...Harry Potter..."

Gwydion watched nervously from the doorway. Since he and his brother had been spotted by Blackmore and Lupin, their cover was now blown, and he was staying in the Dark Lord's hideout along with Wormtail and some of the other fugitives. He now had no choice but to fully commit to his Master's cause, if he ever wanted to be something other than an outcast and a criminal. "But Hogwarts is protected," he said.

Voldemort glared at the interruption, but then Goewin spoke, as if in response to Gwydion's comment. "The blood of an innocent will break the protections spun over Hogwarts..." Then her eyes went wide with terror and she began screaming. 

Voldemort carelessly flicked his wand at her, casting a sleep spell, and the screaming ceased. "That's it!" he said. "We will make a blood sacrifice upon the school grounds, breaking the protections, breaking the seat of Dumbledore's power!"

"But how will we get into the school?" Gwydion wanted to know.

"Don't worry," Voldemort said with a satisfied smile. "I have a plan..."

"Who will we sacrifice?" Gilbert asked in a trembling voice.

"She said, 'the blood of an innocent,'" Voldemort mused, looking at Goewin. "And what could be more innocent than a baby? And if that is not sufficient, we will have a whole school filled with innocent children. Well, relatively innocent, anyway...I'm not sure that we can call Dylan and his friends 'innocent,' exactly..." The Dark Lord cackled and went off to set his plans in motion.

"Gwydion," Gilbert whispered urgently. "Kidnapping her was one thing--but to let him kill her? And her baby?"

"That baby would take our inheritance!" Gwydion whispered back fiercely. "And besides, it's her or us! What do you care, anyway--she's the reason we were turned into beasts! She's the reason you lost your mind--and don't forget that you would still be a half-wit if not for me!" 

Gilbert watched his brother stalk off, and wished that Gwydion had left him a half-wit. His brother was now a Death Eater in spirit as well as name, and Gilbert could see no way out of this mess of their own making.

*** 

The Order kept Goewin's kidnapping quiet; they didn't want to alarm the public--which was already in a panic over the attack that had wounded Deirdre and killed several people--but most of all, they didn't want Dylan to know what had happened. Snape didn't think that the boy would be able to keep up his loyal facade in front of the Death Eaters if he knew the truth.

"We'll have to tell him eventually," Lupin pointed out.

"Not yet," Snape insisted, and Ariane agreed. "The Dark Lord clearly wants to keep this a secret from him, or he would have used Dylan instead of Gwydion to get to Goewin. He still needs Dylan's willing cooperation to make use of the roses."

"Maybe we can get Goewin back before it becomes necessary to tell him," Ariane said hopefully, though they all knew that wasn't very likely.

Keeping it a secret meant that they could not yet expose Gwydion's treachery, but apparently he wasn't taking any chances. He disappeared without word, alarming his supervisors and coworkers at the Ministry. Gilbert had vanished as well; although apart from the Order, only Deirdre's house-elf servants were aware of it at present. They were very worried about "young Master Gilbert, who is not quite right in the head, you know". Math assured them that they were doing everything they could to find the brothers, and ordered them to keep quiet about it. And, lacking instructions from any other member of the family, they readily obeyed.

But Dumbledore decided that there was one person who needed to be told. Against all odds, Deirdre Donner lived, making a miraculous recovery--thanks in part to the skill of the healers at St. Mungo's, a sizable portion of good luck, and her own stubborn, tenacious nature which would not allow death to take her so easily. She left her bed as soon as she was able, about a week after the attack, against the doctors' orders, and demanded to know where her sons were. On Dumbledore's instructions, Math brought her to Hogwarts.

"Mother!" Ariane said. "Thank Merlin you're all right!"

Deirdre slapped away her daughter's outstretched hands, ignoring the hurt look on Ariane's face and the reproachful glare Branwen Blackmore gave her.

"Where are my sons?" Deirdre demanded of Dumbledore, who sat at his desk in his office, calmly gazing back at her.

"Your sons are traitors, Deirdre," Dumbledore said. "They have joined the Death Eaters."

"That's ridiculous!" Deirdre snapped. "If anyone is a Death Eater, it's Ariane!"

"Ariane made some terrible errors of judgment in the past, Sister," Math said, "but she has repented of her crimes. She has risked her life to help us fight Voldemort."

"You're a sentimental old fool if you believe that, Math!" Deirdre said. "And what about my sons? What possible motive could they have for joining the Death Eaters? Gilbert isn't even able to think for himself, anyway!"

"That is precisely the motive," Dumbledore said. Lupin stepped forward and placed a casket full of potion bottles on the Headmaster's desk, along with two hooded black robes. "We found these in Gwydion's rooms: Death Eater robes and Mind Restoration Potion. Gwydion joined the Death Eaters because Voldemort promised him a potion that would restore his brother's sanity. Though I fear Gilbert still isn't thinking for himself, and is mostly following his brother's lead, as he has done all his life."

"No," Deirdre whispered, staring at the bottles and robes in horror. "No, it's not true!" she said desperately. "Someone planted those things there to try and frame them!"

In a cold, implacable voice, Math said, "They arranged the attack on you, Deirdre, to lure me away from my home so they could kidnap my wife!"

"No!"

"I saw them, Mother," Ariane said, gazing at Deirdre, surprised to feel more pity than triumph. "They came accompanied by several Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy among them, and overpowered me and took Goewin."

"Why would they want Goewin?" Deirdre screamed hysterically. "And why should I believe you?!"

"You may believe us, Deirdre," Branwen said quietly. "Remus and I came to their aid, and witnessed the attack."

"You're the daughter of a Dark Wizard!" Deirdre protested, but they could see belief dawning in her eyes.

"As to why," Lupin said, "Goewin is pregnant, and her daughter has the Sight." That statement finally rendered Deirdre speechless. "One of our Seers foresaw that the child would be vital to the war efforts, and apparently Voldemort somehow became aware of that as well. That is why he used your sons to kidnap her."

Deirdre slowly sank to her knees on the floor, buried her face in her hands, and began to weep. Math knelt down beside her and put his arms around her. "How?" she sobbed. "How could he do such a thing, Math?"

"Gwydion did it for love of his brother," Math replied sadly. "He always loved Gilbert too much."

"It started out as a gesture of love for his brother," Branwen said, looking down at Deirdre with neither compassion nor contempt. "But Gwydion also loves power, and I fear Voldemort has used both loves to corrupt him beyond redemption. Gwydion was his spy in the Ministry, you know. He used his position to help break the Death Eaters out of Azkaban."

"And you didn't tell me?!" Deirdre shouted at her brother.

"Would you have believed me?" he asked softly.

"No," she replied, hanging her head. "I can scarcely believe it now." Then she looked up, and her eyes, though red from weeping, were cold and hard. "But they are my sons no longer, and they will pay for their crimes."

"You still have a daughter," Branwen reminded her.

Deirdre glared at her again, and gazed at her daughter suspiciously. "How can you be sure she is trustworthy?"

"She has willingly sworn her loyalty under Geas," Math replied. "The spell will destroy her if she tries to break her vows."

Deirdre stared at her daughter in shock and began laughing mirthlessly. "And in a moment, my world is turned topsy-turvy! My sons are Death Eaters, and my disowned daughter is working against her former Master!"

"She was never truly a Death Eater, Lady Deirdre," Lupin said gently.

"No, but I came close enough to it," Ariane admitted.

"What made you change your mind?" her mother asked.

"I did not want my son to die in the Dark Lord's service as his father did," Ariane replied quietly.

"Hmmph!" Deirdre snorted. "Well, you're mistaken if you think I'll ever accept that Slytherin brat into the family!"

"Deirdre!" Math shouted indignantly, but Ariane just shrugged indifferently.

Deirdre ignored them both. "Well, I will help you in any way I can, to make up for my sons' crimes," she told Dumbledore.

"Thank you, Deirdre," the Headmaster said solemnly. "You can start by keeping this information secret for now; there is still a chance the boys may return to you so long as they believe you do not know the truth."

"If they do so, you may be sure I will turn them in," she said grimly.

"For now," Dumbledore continued, "I think you can serve us best by getting some rest; you look like you're about to collapse. Math, why don't you take her to the hospital wing? She's clearly not up to traveling; she can rest here tonight."

With only a token protest, Deirdre followed her brother through the fireplace and into the hospital wing.

"I'm sorry, Ariane," Branwen said. "I hoped she would react differently when she found out the truth..."

Ariane shrugged again. "She's spent the past fifteen years hating me; she's not going to change overnight. She'll probably never forgive me; it's not just that I allied with the Death Eaters, but that I took a Slytherin as a lover and bore his child. Besides, it scares me to see her all weepy; when she's in her overbearing Lady Donner mode, at least I know she's feeling all right."

Lupin chuckled gently, and Branwen smiled and let the matter drop, although they both knew that Ariane had been hurt by her mother's rejection, and resumed their discussion with the Headmaster. It was vital that they find some way to rescue Goewin, not just for her sake, but to prevent Voldemort from winning the war. Math returned, along with Snape, and they continued their discussion long into the night...

*** 

"You want me to WHAT?!" Gwydion shrieked. "I'm a fugitive! I can't just waltz into the Ministry of Magic!"

"Actually, Gwydion, you're not," Lucius interrupted. "My sources tell me that the kidnapping was not made public, and no charges have been filed against you. Your coworkers believe you are the victim of foul play."

"How can that be?" a stunned Gwydion asked. "Why didn't they expose me?"

"Dumbledore must have his reasons," Lucius said with a shrug, "but it works to our advantage."

"Maybe it's a trap," Gwydion said suspiciously. "Maybe they'll arrest me as soon as I walk through the door."

"Then you will have to convince them that you are innocent," Voldemort said. "Tell them you were kidnapped by the Death Eaters and put under an Imperius Curse. Many of my Death Eaters did so and got away with it after the first war."

Those Death Eaters looked very nervous at that reminder, and Gwydion protested, "But that makes it less likely that they'll believe it the second time around!"

"That is an order, not a suggestion, Gwydion!" Voldemort snarled. 

Gwydion bowed and glumly said, "Yes, my Lord."

*** 

Percy Weasley was working late at the Ministry of Magic, filling out some paperwork for his supervisor, Cornelius Fudge. He was very proud to be assistant to the Minister of Magic himself, and didn't mind the long hours. After all, the Minister was working around the clock to deal with the Death Eater attacks; he would do whatever he could, however small, to ease the Minister's burdens.

Hal Wilson, a young assistant to one of the under-Ministers, dropped another stack of papers on Percy's desk. "I'm calling it a night, Percy. You're staying late again, huh?"

"It's my duty to stay as long as the Minister does, in case he needs me," Percy said primly.

Hal just grinned, unoffended; he was impossibly good-natured, and reminded Percy uncomfortably of his brothers. "Say, I picked up something cool at your brothers' shop today," he said.

"Please don't remind me what a disgrace the twins are to the family name," Percy groaned.

"They're successful businessmen," Hal chided him. "That's nothing to be ashamed of! Anyway, they have these new fireworks." He held out a small red cardboard tube, about the size of a cigarette. "You don't even have to light them, just flick the top off to set them off. Like this--"

"Don't do that in here, you imbecile!" Percy shouted.

"Just kidding, Weasley," Hal laughed, dropping the tube on Percy's desk. "Anyhow, it's my kid brother's birthday this weekend, and I figured he'd love these."

"I'm sure he will," Percy said sourly.

Just then, Fudge walked in, looking weary and anxious. "What's going on here?" he asked.

Percy hastily scooped up the fireworks tube and dropped it in his pocket. "Nothing, sir. Wilson was just dropping off these papers. He was just on his way out."

"Goodnight, sir," Hal said, nodding at Fudge in a respectful manner.

"Goodnight," Fudge said absentmindedly as Hal left. "We need to draft up these new orders, to be sent to the press and posted around the city. We've decided to put a curfew into effect until the Death Eaters are caught."

"Yes, sir!" Percy said, picking up his quill. "A splendid idea, sir!" 

Fudge smiled and patted Percy on the shoulder. "Well then, let's get to work, Weasley."

Meanwhile, the security guard in the Atrium gasped as Arthur Weasley and Gwydion Donner staggered into the hall. Gwydion's clothes were rumpled and dirty, with streaks of what looked like dried blood smeared on them, and there were prominent bruises on his face. He leaned heavily on Arthur for support.

"Mr. Donner!" the guard gasped. "Are you all right? Where have you been all this time?"

"We have no time to talk now!" Arthur snapped. "We must see the Minister of Magic right away! Gwydion has vital information about the Death Eaters!" Gwydion groaned, and looked like he was going to collapse.

"He looks like he needs medical attention," the guard said dubiously.

"No time for that," Gwydion protested bravely. "I'll be all right. Must get...this information to the Minister...before it's too late..."

"Go on up, sirs," the guard said. "I'll let Mr. Fudge know you're on your way."

"Gwydion! Arthur!" Fudge exclaimed as they burst into his office. "What's going on?"

"Dad!" said Percy.

Arthur Weasley regarded him with a look of surprise, as if he didn't recognize his own son, then he smiled, in a sleek and smug way that Percy had never seen before. "Ah, young Percy," he purred in a tone of voice that was totally out of character, and yet somehow familiar. "I hadn't expected you to be here, but you could come in quite useful."

"Dad?" Percy asked in confusion.

"Munch called up and said you had information about the Death Eaters," Fudge said anxiously. 

"Yes, I do," Gwydion replied.

"What happened? Did they kidnap you?"

"No, Cornelius," Gwydion replied, taking out his wand, as did Arthur. "I am one of them."

"What?!" Fudge shouted. "If this is some sort of joke, Donner--"

"It's no joke, Minister. Imperio!"

Percy lunged for the door, screaming for help, before his "father" also hit him with an Imperius Curse.

Only one Auror--not Kingsley Shacklebolt, who might have been more careful, because Lucius and Gwydion had been careful to choose a night when he was not on the duty roster--had still been in the building this late at night. Although the guard had no reason to doubt Gwydion's loyalty, he had still alerted the Auror, figuring that the Aurors would be needed to deal with whatever Death Eater threat Gwydion and Arthur were about to report. He heard Percy's cry for help, and walked in with his wand raised, but he was not quick enough to fend off the attack.

"Avada Kedavra!" Arthur shouted, and the man dropped to the floor like a stone.

Percy suddenly knew why his father's voice had sounded strange and yet familiar at the same time. "You're Lucius Malfoy," he whispered.

"And you're not as dumb as you look, Percy," Lucius said, smiling at him maliciously with his father's face. "I order you not to speak without my permission." And Percy found himself unable to speak further. 

Meanwhile, Gwydion hid the Auror's body in the closet. No one would find it until it was too late.

Gwydion whispered his instructions into the Minister's ear, and they left the office.

"Mr. Fudge!" the guard exclaimed as they exited the elevator and emerged in the Atrium.

Fudge said stiffly, "Don't speak a word of this to anyone, Eric. Top-secret business. The safety of the wizarding world depends upon it."

"Yes, sir!" the guard said. "You can count on me, sir!"

Lucius laughed after they left the building, "How helpful that the Ministry seems to be staffed by idiots!" Then he grinned at Percy and said, "Come along now, son. We're paying a visit to your old alma mater."

*** 

While Gwydion and Lucius were on their mission, the Dark Lord was making his own preparations. His magical research had finally paid off; first he quaffed a mixture made from human blood and the crushed petals of Dylan's roses. Next, he picked up a dagger that had been soaked in the same mixture while many powerful enchantments were laid upon it. The steel blade now had a metallic red sheen to it. He slipped it into a sheath on his belt, which also held a second dagger, the one with the serpent-shaped hilt, which was not enchanted.

Finally, he picked up a flask containing some of Dylan's blood and went to the room that held the vampiric roses. He opened the flask, took out his wand, and cast a spell that had taken him months to develop. The wand pulled the blood out of the flask, spinning it into a length of red thread, and then wove the thread into a confining net around around the potted rose bush. The roses quivered a little, then went still. Voldemort still had not found a way to command the roses, but at least now he could transport them--the "net" made of Dylan's blood would keep them quiescent--and once the net was removed he wouldn't really need to control them. Voldemort just had to make sure that he and his Death Eaters remained out of range, and the roses would happily attack anyone that ventured within reach of their vines.

He ordered Wormtail to carry the magically-bound roses, which he did with great reluctance, whimpering with fear the entire time. His other Death Eaters came at his call, carrying a bound and gagged Goewin, and they all Disapparated.

*** 

Back in Japan, Kamiyama and his allies had not been idle. They had been stockpiling healing salves and potions, and had begun sending them to Dumbledore at Hogwarts after the news of Goewin's kidnapping reached them. Although the Headmaster wanted to keep the incident from becoming public, he trusted his old colleague with the news, because he suspected it was a sign that open war would break out soon. The tengu warriors began preparing for battle, gathering in the mountains behind Kamiyama's temple, and Kamiyama sent some of his mages to England to help lay protective spells upon the residences of Order members, of Muggle-born wizards, and others who might be vulnerable to attack--even on some of the residences of the lesser Slytherin families who were not powerful enough to protect themselves, and who might be subject to vigilante justice.

One of these families was the Zabinis, and it made them grateful to Dumbledore despite their long-held antipathy towards Gryffindor. They had already suffered minor vandalism to their home, although they had not told their son that, not wanting to worry him.

Kamiyama was meditating in the temple early one morning, when his granddaughter burst in on him, shouting, "Grandfather! I must go to Hogwarts now!"

"Miyako?" Kamiyama said, looking up in surprise.

"I had a vision," she gasped, her eyes still looking a little unfocused. "The Dark Lord will attack tonight, I have Seen it! The school, the students, the unborn baby...they are all in danger! I have to warn them!"

"You can't Apparate that far," Kamiyama said. "You must use the Portkey. But I don't want you going alone."

"There's no time--"

"I'll go with her, Father," Tsuneko said, entering the temple. "You can't think I'd let my daughter go off to a strange country alone."

"I'll go, too," said another voice.

"Mamoru!" Kamiyama exclaimed. "When did you get here?"

His youngest son smiled at him. "I just returned from England yesterday after helping to set protective wards around vulnerable locations. But it seems I must turn around and go right back."

"It would ease my heart greatly, if you would act as guardian to your niece," Kamiyama said with a smile. His son was a master of protective magics, which was highly appropriate, since his name meant "to protect".

"We have to go now!" Miyako shouted impatiently. 

"Very well," Mamoru said, and they set off together down the path to the Portkey. Meanwhile, Kamiyama set off to alert the healers and the tengu warriors, who would be needed if a battle was imminent.

It was early morning in Japan, but it was late at night in England. Miyako and her mother and uncle emerged in the Sakura restaurant, startling the staff, who had closed the restaurant and were cleaning up and preparing to leave. Haruko, the hostess and owner of the restaurant, contacted Dumbledore and sent her surprise visitors to Hogwarts through the fireplace.

*** 

Draco Malfoy crept out of his dorm room, intent upon following his father's orders. First, he woke up Crabbe and Goyle, then headed to Nott's room. To his surprise, he found that the door had been sealed with a minor warding spell. No problem; it was easy to break--it was probably only intended to prevent casual intrusions, but Draco was curious about why Nott felt the need to ward his door. So he quietly broke the spell and opened the door, and laughed at what he saw.

"Merlin!" gasped Crabbe.

"Nott and Zabini?" Goyle said, his eyes wide with shock. Because Zabini's bed was empty, and both boys lay together on Nott's bed, limbs intertwined.

"Wake up, sleeping beauties," Draco crooned. 

Nott woke with a start, lunging for the wand on his nightstand. Draco quickly pulled out his own wand, just in case. "Take it easy, Nott! It's me, Draco!"

"Draco?" Nott said. "What the hell are you doing here? What time is it?"

Zabini looked up blearily and said, "What's going on?"

"The time has come, Nott," Draco said in a dramatic voice.

"Time for what?" Nott asked, sounding annoyed and just a little frightened.

"Time for us to take our places beside our fathers," Draco said with satisfaction.

"Wh-what?" stammered Nott. "Tonight?!"

"Yes," Draco said, frowning. "Aren't you happy?"

"Of course!" Nott said quickly. "It's just--I didn't expect it to happen so soon--"

"I guess we'd better bring Zabini, too," Draco said, looking at Blaise, who was staring at him with fear in his eyes. "You did say you wanted to be one of us, after all."

"I did?" asked Zabini nervously. "I don't remember--"

"Of course you don't," Draco replied with a smirk. "Nott's dad took your memory away when you stumbled across our meeting on Halloween. But it doesn't matter whether you remember or not, Zabini; I'm holding you to your promise."

"He'll keep his promise," Nott snapped. 

"Good. Hurry up, let's go."

"Give us a minute to get dressed first," Nott said, blushing. Both boys were obviously nude beneath the blankets.

Draco smirked again. "All right, but hurry up."

Draco shut the door and Blaise stared at Theodore in horror. "I knew something happened on Halloween!" he whispered.

"Hurry up and get dressed!" Theodore hissed, throwing a robe at Blaise.

"Theo, what are we going to do?" Blaise asked desperately.

"They'll kill us if we don't go with them," Theodore said, reaching for a scrap of paper and his quill.

"I think maybe the two of us can take on the three of them," Blaise said uncertainly.

"Maybe," Theodore said dubiously. "But the Death Eaters will come after us if we defy them. I'm sending a note to Snape; maybe he can help us." He folded the note into an origami crane and cast an enchantment on it. "It'll take off as soon as we leave the room."

Draco knocked on the door, calling impatiently, "Come on, Nott, get a move on!"

Blaise and Theodore emerged from their room and followed Draco down the hall. Draco never looked back, so he didn't notice a little white paper bird slip out through the door, which had been left open a crack, and flutter away.

They went to Dylan's room and woke him up, and since the disturbance woke up Damien as well, Draco said, "Well, I guess you're coming, too, Pierce." Damien went pale, but Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all had their wands out, and he was unarmed, so he looked at Dylan, who looked back at him helplessly, and nodded in reluctant assent.

Dylan asked hesitantly, "Is Professor Snape going to be...wherever we're going?"

Draco shrugged. "My dad didn't say, but I'm sure he'll be there if our Master deems it necessary."

Dylan reluctantly followed Draco, wondering what he should do. He and his friends should be able to overpower Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle if they all worked together, but he wasn't sure if Theodore, Blaise, and Damien would be willing to do that. They looked frightened and cowed right now, and they were so used to following Draco's lead that Dylan wasn't sure he could convince them to act before Draco and his henchmen disarmed them. Besides, that would mean blowing his cover as a Death Eater, and he wasn't sure Snape would want him to do that. So he kept his silence and followed obediently for the moment.

Draco sent Theodore to fetch Serafina from the girls' dorm; apparently he had managed to do so without waking her roommate and creating a disturbance. Serafina joined their group, her face pale and unreadable, and Draco led them out of the castle.

"So where are we going, Draco?" Dylan asked.

"You'll see, Rosier," Draco said with a grin. "We haven't far to go."

Draco had not been particularly quiet, and many of other students had woken up, but they all pretended to be asleep, not wanting to get involved with what was surely Death Eater business. Except for one; Brad Doherty quietly crept out of his room and followed behind at a safe distance.

*** 

Miyako was informing Dumbledore and his companions of the vision she had seen, when a white paper bird slipped under the door of the Headmaster's office and fluttered over to Snape. Startled, he plucked it out of the air, unfolded it, read the note, and turned even paler than usual.

"Severus!" Lupin exclaimed. "What's wrong?"

"It's from Theodore," Snape whispered. "Draco is rounding up the Death Eater offspring, to 'take their places beside their fathers'. He's taken Blaise Zabini as well."

"We've got to stop them!" Lupin said. 

"If the Death Eaters are making an attack on Hogwarts, the children are probably supposed to meet them somewhere on the school grounds," Snape said grimly. "Besides, none of them are able to Apparate, so they can't go far, anyway."

"How can the Death Eaters get into the school?" Lupin asked.

"I don't know, but I'm sure they'll find a way," Snape said, still looking grim. 

Math was already on his feet. "If they have Goewin and they intend to kill her, there's no time to waste!"

Dumbledore nodded. "The five of you start searching, but stay together and be careful. I'll alert the other teachers and the Order."

"I have to send a message to Lukas," Lupin said. "He promised to fight when the time came."

Suddenly Snape cried out in pain and clutched at his arm. Then he smiled mirthlessly. "Well, we shouldn't have any trouble finding them; the Mark should lead us straight to the Dark Lord."

*** 

There were many protections upon Hogwarts, but the Minister of Magic could not be barred from the school, and the gates swung open for him. He walked through the gates, followed by a number of dark-robed figures.

They chose a spot on the school grounds near the Forbidden Forest. One of the Death Eaters used a spell to scorch a large area bare of grass, leaving behind smooth, packed earth. Other Death Eaters began drawing a circle on the ground using red paint, and within the circle, the runes and symbols required for a blood sacrifice. They laid Goewin, who was still bound, within the circle. Voldemort had them remove her gag; he found the screams of a victim pleasurable, and it was unlikely that anyone in the castle would be able to hear her screams and cries for help. Even if they did, by the time they got here it would be too late.

Just then, Draco and his band of mostly-reluctant followers came into view, and Voldemort grinned. Goewin had seen the children in her vision, so he had ordered Lucius to make sure that they attended the sacrifice. It was as a good a time as any to induct them into the Death Eaters, and if one sacrifice was not enough to desecrate the school grounds and break the protections upon Hogwarts, why then, he would have several more victims within easy reach. Besides, the blood sacrifice spell and the battle that was sure to follow would drain him of energy, and he would need to replenish his strength...though maybe he would take Wormtail instead of one of the children. He was really quite fed up with his minion's sniveling and whining...

*** 

Lukas smiled with grim satisfaction as he slipped a small mirror into his pocket. "Word has come from Remus!" he announced to his pack. "It is time!"

They growled with mingled fear and eagerness, their eyes more feral than usual--except for Brian.

"This isn't our fight," he protested.

"It became our fight when they murdered one of our pack!" Lukas snarled. 

"We can hide in the shadows living on handouts and charity like this for the rest of our lives," Kyra said. "Or we can show those cowardly Ministry dogs how wolves fight!"

"That's the spirit!" Lukas said clapping her on the shoulder. "But it is likely that many of us will die tonight. I won't take anyone who isn't willing. But you must make up your mind now."

Brian hesitated. He wanted to protest that he was a stockboy (and before that a businessman), not a warrior; he wanted to crawl away with his tail between his legs. But Kyra's words had shamed him; he was tired of hiding, tired of being ashamed of himself. And his family might have rejected him, but these werewolves had taken him in and looked after him, even when they were sick of his constant complaining and whining. They were his family now, Brian realized; they were pack. They would never abandon or betray him as his real family had. "I will come with you," he said.

*** 

As the Slytherin children entered the clearing, they could see dim lights coming from wands held aloft. As they drew closer, Theodore could see a woman--a very pregnant woman--lying bound within a rune-filled circle and his blood ran cold. He realized that he had just made a very big mistake; Blaise was right, they should have tried to overpower Draco and Crabbe and Goyle back in the dorm. Instead, they had followed Draco like lambs to the slaughter, and now it was too late, because the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters were standing before them and there was no possible way they could escape.

The other children did not recognize the woman within the circle at first, but Dylan did. "AUNT GOEWIN!" he screamed, reaching for his wand as he rushed forward. Strong arms grabbed him from behind and he struggled desperately with his captor.

"Stop it!" Lucius Malfoy hissed into his ear. "Behave like a proper Death Eater!"

"You never told me you were planning to sacrifice my aunt!" Dylan screamed. 

"What did you think was going to happen to her, boy?" Lucius snarled. "She and your great-uncle are allies of Dumbledore, our Master's enemy! All those who stand against us must die! Besides, do you really think they would still love you once they found out your true loyalties?" He called out in a taunting voice, "Look, Goewin! Your beloved nephew is a Death Eater like his father!"

If he was expecting shock or horror, he was disappointed. She only looked over at Dylan sadly. 

"Aunt Goewin!" Dylan shouted, still struggling to break free.

Goewin knew that the Death Eaters would kill him if he tried to help her, and there was no chance he could succeed in freeing her even if his friends joined him, which was not very likely. He had to remain alive; Severus and the Order could still rescue him even if it was too late for her. "No, Dylan," she said quietly. "Don't do it."

Stunned, Dylan stopped struggling, and Lucius laughed. "I was wrong! How touching; she does still love you! Listen to your aunt, Dylan, like a good little boy." Dylan glared at him, his silver-gray eyes filled with pure hatred. "Remember your place, boy!" Lucius snapped. "Remember that your mother will pay the price if you disobey your Lord!" 

Voldemort had been watching with amusement, and he finally spoke. "If you try to interfere, Dylan, I will kill Ariane as well as Goewin." 

As Dylan's face turned white, Lucius gestured to one of the other Death Eaters. Bellatrix Lestrange raised her wand; black ropes shot out of it, binding Damien, who let out a startled squawk. Then Bellatrix stepped forward and held a knife to his throat, and he froze in place. "Such a pretty boy," she crooned, stroking his hair. "Shall we open his throat and let his blood run red, to match his pretty red hair?"

"Your friend Pierce will suffer too, if you continue to defy us, Dylan," Lucius said.

"Pierce?" Narcissa Malfoy asked in a startled voice. She stepped forward, holding up a glowing wand, to take a closer look at Damien. "This is my friend Aileen's son!"

Damien knew that Narcissa had been friends with his mother at school, although they now saw each other only occasionally at parties or school functions. "Please," he whispered. "Please, Lady Narcissa..."

Narcissa opened her mouth, as if to command Bellatrix to let the boy go, but then she looked at her husband and at the Dark Lord, and fell silent.

"I will be quite cross with you if you force me to cause my dear wife distress," Lucius said in a light, joking tone, but Dylan could hear the threat behind those words.

Dylan's body went limp with resignation, and Lucius loosened his hold on the boy. "Enough," Dylan whispered. "I...I've come to my senses. I will not defy you." He had to play along for now; he would watch and wait, and maybe he would get a chance to help Goewin later...although he doubted it, after the scene he had just made. He didn't know if he could just stand back and watch them kill her, but on the other hand, neither could he let Damien and his mother be harmed. He wondered if Snape had ever been faced with such a choice, and if so, how he had managed to live with the guilt for all these years.

Lucius released him and Bellatrix released Damien. "Very good, Dylan," Lucius said. "Don't do anything so foolish again."

"I should punish you," Voldemort said, "but I have no more time to waste. I shall not be so merciful a second time, boy."

Dylan dropped to his knees and bowed low. "Forgive me, Master. I will never do such a thing again."

Voldemort actually laughed and patted him on the shoulder, looking almost indulgent. "You are young, boy. In time you will learn not to be affected by foolish emotions like love."

Dylan forced his body to remain still, fighting back a shudder, and also kept his mental walls rigidly in place, not letting any of his hatred or fear leak through them.

Voldemort turned away and called to his Death Eaters to begin the ceremony. They formed a circle around Goewin and began chanting. Lucius and a few of the other Death Eaters, including the elder Crabbe and Goyle, remained apart from the circle to keep an eye on the children. 

Lucius placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "This is a great night, my son. Tonight you will become one of us, and we will finally claim the power and glory that are rightfully ours."

"Y-yes, Father," Draco said, trying to look properly grateful and impressed, but inside he was deeply shaken. He was the son of a Death Eater, and was prepared for the sight of blood, was prepared to kill if necessary, but he had not expected the Death Eaters to sacrifice a pregnant woman tonight--especially not one who was Dylan's beloved great-aunt. _She's the enemy,_ he told himself. _That means she deserves to die._ But he remembered seeing the beautiful dark-haired woman cheering her nephew on from the spectator stands on the Quidditch Pitch, waving one of Draco's beribboned roses, and could not quite seem to make himself believe his own words.

Lying in the circle, Goewin felt her fear depart as a vision overwhelmed her and she slid into trance, with no need for drugged smoke. "One will fall tonight," she intoned in a low, emotionless voice, "and only one will remain. The Lord of Darkness or the Boy Who Lived." The chanting faltered, then resumed as Voldemort glared at his Death Eaters, but a hint of fear glimmered in his crimson eyes. "Only a child born of the Serpent and the Lion can slay the Lord of Darkness." 

A sudden, overpowering fear filled the Dark Lord; he alone of all the people here understood the true meaning behind those words. For a moment, he was tempted to drop everything and flee, but the moment passed, and he raised his voice and continued chanting the incantation for the blood sacrifice spell. He would not be driven away in his moment of triumph by a Seer's ramblings! One would fall tonight; that one would be Harry Potter and not himself. He would not fail; he would not be defeated by a mere child! No, he would carry out the sacrifice, break the protections on Hogwarts, kill Potter, and then no one would be able to stop him...

*** 

Dumbledore was holding an urgent conference with the remaining Hogwarts teachers and whatever Order members he was able to gather on short notice when Miyako's eyes glazed over and she spoke without seeming to be aware of it. "One will fall tonight and one will remain." Silence fell over the room. "The Lord of Darkness or the Boy Who Lived," she continued, oblivious. "Only a child born of the Serpent and the Lion can slay the Lord of Darkness." Then she fainted, and Mamoru hastily stepped forward to catch her. She blinked and regained consciousness a moment later, but had no recollection of what she had said.

"What does it mean?" McGonagall asked.

"I don't know," Dumbledore said, looking worried. "But it must refer to Harry. He does have some of Voldemort's powers, transferred to him when Voldemort tried to kill him; perhaps that's what it means by 'the Serpent'."

"I don't know about this Serpent and Lion business," Karasu said impatiently. "But the rest of it is clear enough. Harry Potter must fight in this battle tonight or all is lost."

"No!" Sirius cried out, but the despair in his eyes gave away the fact that he knew he could not shelter his godson from this battle.

Dumbledore bowed his head, looking old and weary. "I am afraid you are right," he told Karasu.

*** 

Only Voldemort understood what this particular prophecy meant. Even before he had organized the Death Eaters and rose to power during the first war, he had still vented his rage on Mudbloods and Muggles, although he had been more discreet about it back then. He had raped a pretty red-headed Muggle girl who had crossed his path by chance one night, simply because it amused him, and did not realize until years later that their brief encounter had resulted in a child: Lily Evans. When he learned of the child's existence, he monitored her closely, but to his disappointment, she did not follow his path as a Slytherin, but instead joined the foolish, noble Gryffindors, and eventually married James Potter, who was a descendant of Godric Gryffindor.

Neither Potter nor any of his living relatives had been aware of their heritage because their Gryffindor ancestor had been born on the wrong side of the blanket, so to speak, and the Potter woman who had given birth to a child not her husband's had taken that secret with her to her grave. Only Voldemort knew that little Harry Potter was the descendant of both Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor--a child born of the Serpent and the Lion. Voldemort had been intent upon wiping out the Potter family, not just because they were staunch supporters of Dumbledore, but because of their Gryffindor blood. He had intended to spare his wayward daughter's life, but she had forced him to kill her when she refused to give up the child. He should have slain her long ago, as soon as her path crossed Potter's, before she ever had a chance to bear a child with the power to destroy him.

*** 

A commotion in the hospital wing woke up Deirdre Donner. Madam Pomfrey and a young Japanese woman were bustling about gathering bandages and other supplies.

"You stay here and be prepared for serious injuries," the Japanese woman was saying. "I'm going to set up a field hospital; I'm sure they'll need a healer on the battlefield."

"Is that safe, Chizuru?" Pomfrey asked, sounding worried.

"Of course not," Chizuru replied. "But if the warriors are risking their lives, I can do no less. Mamoru and Tsuneko will protect me."

"What's going on?" Deirdre asked in alarm. "You said something about a battle...?"

"The Headmaster believes that the Death Eaters are staging an attack on Hogwarts tonight," Pomfrey replied gravely. 

Deirdre jumped out of bed. "If there's going to be a battle against the Death Eaters, I intend to be there!" she declared.  "Mrs. Donner!" Pomfrey cried. "You're not well, you can't--" But Deirdre was already running out of the room.  "We don't have time to chase after her," Chizuru said with a rare hint of impatience as Pomfrey started to go after Deirdre. "I'm sorry, but there are other people counting on us."

Madam Pomfrey sighed and said, "I suppose you're right." She remembered Deirdre well, from when her children had been students at Hogwarts; she remembered Lady Donner as a cold, formidable woman who never took "no" for an answer. "Besides," she added wryly, "in a fight between a Death Eater and Deirdre Donner, I'd put my money on Deirdre any day."

*** 

Dumbledore and McGonagall woke up Harry and told him what was happening. "This is it," Harry said, turning pale. He rubbed the scar on his forehead which, not surprisingly, was sore. "The prophecy said one of us must kill the other. I have to fight him tonight, don't I?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so, Harry."

"All right," Harry said with grim determination, trying to sound braver than he felt. At least after tonight, it would all be over, one way or the other... "Let me get dressed." The teachers exited the room, as Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus watched with round, frightened eyes. Harry pulled off his nightshirt and started to reach for his clothes, then paused. He reached into his trunk and pulled out the jar of woad-based unguent they had made in Snape's class, and smeared it over his arms and chest. He might look a little silly dyed blue, but maybe it would help; it certainly couldn't hurt. 

He also took out a small strip of cloth he had made in Professor Chizuru's class, one that had a protective charm woven in along with the threads. At least, he hoped so; the cloth had come out slightly lopsided, with little lumpy knots where the threads had gotten tangled on the loom--but again, it couldn't hurt. He tied the cloth around his wrist and got dressed. The other boys got dressed, too; Ron and Neville also put on their unguent and protective charms.

Dumbledore said, "Come with me, Harry," and McGonagall tried to shepherd the other students to a safer and more defensible location in the heart of the castle. But she--and the other Heads of House as well--were having some trouble with their charges. 

"We're not letting Harry go off to fight the Death Eaters alone!" Ron said indignantly, and Hermione nodded in emphatic agreement. In fact, all the members of Dumbledore's Army were frightened but determined to support Harry. 

"Let them come," Miyako said. "I saw them on the battlefield in my vision--at least, I saw those two." She pointed to Ron and Hermione. "It may be that they have a key role to play in the battle."

"But--" McGonagall protested. Putting children in danger went against all her instincts as a teacher.

"We don't have time to argue," Miyako pointed out. "And if the Dark Lord wins, hiding in the castle won't protect them."

"But sending children out to fight--"

They reached a compromise; Chizuru needed volunteers to help her with her field hospital, and agreed to take charge of the rest of the D.A. members. She pointed out that she could especially use the help of students like Neville and Lavender, who could practice healing magic. This was marginally safer than fighting, although the teachers still weren't happy about it. 

The Slytherins were not so eager to rush onto the battlefield, but when Millicent and Pansy heard that Parvati and Lavender would be working at the field hospital, they insisted on going with them. "We can't do healing magic," Pansy said, "but we can bandage and splint wounds."

"And we can help guard the hospital," Millicent added. "The Death Eaters won't hesitate to attack noncombatants. You need someone to protect the healers."

"Thank you," Chizuru said with a gentle smile, as all the other teachers and students stared at the Slytherin girls in shock. 

"Let's get a move on!" Karasu said impatiently. "We haven't time to waste!"

Before they left, Miyako drew Harry aside and said to him quietly, "The Lion must embrace the Serpent in the end; I have Seen it in my vision."

Harry had no idea who this strange girl was, but the adults had deferred to her judgment when she told them to allow the students to fight. Clearly she was some sort of Seer, but her proclamation made no more sense to him than any of Professor Trelawney's predictions. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, a bit more sharply than he had intended.

"You will know when the time comes," the girl said solemnly, and Harry shook his head in frustration before following Dumbledore, Sirius, and the other Order members out of the castle.

*** 

The Death Eaters continued the ritual, which seemed to be drawing near the end; Voldemort had slipped the serpent-hilted dagger out of its sheath. Meanwhile, Percy Weasley was desperately trying to shake off the effects of the Imperius Curse. He was still frozen in place, unable to speak, but with a great deal of effort, managed to move his hand just a little; it was enough. Lucius, preoccupied with keeping a close eye on Dylan, did not notice Percy's hand slip into his pocket...

Percy grasped hold of the fireworks tube, pulled it out of his pocket, and knocked the cap off. A stream of red and gold fireworks shot straight up into the air. The Death Eaters broke off their chanting and looked up in surprise. A furious Lucius Malfoy pointed his wand at Percy and screamed, "CRUCIO!" Percy fell to the ground screaming, but despite the pain, felt a sense of triumph. Surely someone at the castle would notice the fireworks...

*** 

Snape, Lupin, Branwen, Math, and Ariane heard a small explosion, and a second later saw fireworks bursting into red and gold flowers of flame and sparks in the sky. "It must be a signal from one of the students!" Lupin exclaimed. The pain in Snape's Mark seemed to confirm that the Death Eaters lay in the direction of the fireworks, and the five Order members ran towards them.

At first, Voldemort was pleased to see Snape run into the clearing; he wanted all of his Death Eaters present at his victory. But then he noticed Snape's companions, and the dagger flew out of his hand as Snape pointed his wand at his Master and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

"You traitor!" Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy shouted simultaneously. Lucius raised his wand, but Dylan attacked him before he get a spell off. Lucius managed to sidestep the curse, and snarled, "A traitor like your mentor, I see! You'll pay for that, boy! Give my regards to your father because you'll be seeing him soon!"

"How could you?!" Draco shouted at Snape, looking hurt and furious. "How could you betray us?! My father was right when he said I shouldn't trust you!"

"Draco, I--" Snape started to say, but had to break off and cast a shield spell when Draco attacked him. 

Voldemort cursed; the ritual had been interrupted and now the spell was ruined. Well, he would still kill Goewin and her unborn child, and hope the mere spilling of blood would be enough to break the protections on Hogwarts even if it wasn't amplified by a Blood Magic ritual. If that wasn't enough, then he'd kill the Death Eater offspring, and if that still wasn't enough, he'd slay every damn brat in the castle if that's what it took!

A fierce and heated battle was taking place, but the Death Eaters outnumbered the Order members, and it seemed that they would prevail until...

"Master!" Wormtail shouted, pointing at the sky. They could see a number of figures on broomsticks approaching at high speed.

Voldemort cursed again; it was Dumbledore bringing reinforcements, no doubt. Well, two could play at that game! "Morsmordre!" he shouted, and a giant glowing skull made of green sparks appeared in the sky. As the Order members arrived at the scene, Voldemort's allies poured out of the Forbidden Forest: the ground trembled and shook, heralding an army of giants, and behind them glided a number of dark-cloaked Dementors.

The fighting broke out in earnest then; and it seemed that the scales had tipped slightly in Voldemort's favor: the Order members were temporarily too occupied with fending off Dementor attacks and avoiding being crushed by the giants to effectively fight the Death Eaters. 

But then a flock of crows flew into view and dropped to the ground, turning into men and women armed with staves and spears and swords. And a series of bloodcurdling howls filled the air as a pack of wolves ran onto the battlefield. They didn't seem to be affected by the Dementors' auras as the humans were, perhaps protected by their animal forms. One large wolf with light, yellow-brown fur leapt up and tore out a Death Eater's throat as he raised his wand. Several other wolves darted in close to one of the giants--too quick and nimble to be caught by the larger but slower and clumsier creature--and tore at his calf, hamstringing him, and ran for cover as the giant toppled to the ground like a tree being felled. As another giant tried to grab at the snarling wolves nipping at his heels, an arrow suddenly buried itself deep in his eye, and he howled in pain. The centaurs had arrived.

Draco was fighting with the Death Eaters, and Dylan was fighting alongside the Order, but the other children watched from the sidelines for the moment, too shocked and frightened to react. But as a Dementor glided towards Dylan's unprotected back, Damien ran forward and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!" And his hound Patronus--reflecting his inner self, faithful and loyal--emerged from his wand and drove back the Dementor.

"Thanks!" Dylan said, and Damien grinned back at him, looking pale but determined.

Meanwhile, Voldemort, drained by the effort of the failed ritual, grabbed the closest available victim--Cornelius Fudge, still frozen in place by the Imperius Curse. He stabbed the Minister of Magic with the enchanted red blade, and the man went pale, and his plump form seemed to shrivel in upon itself. He fell to the ground, a withered husk, and Voldemort stepped forward to do battle, revitalized by the life-force he had stolen.

In the commotion, Goewin was temporarily forgotten. Gilbert hesitated, then saw the serpent-hilted dagger lying on the ground where it had been knocked out of Voldemort's hand. He picked it up and quietly crawled towards his aunt. Her eyes widened with fear, but all he did was cut the ropes binding her. "I'm so sorry, Goewin," he whispered. "For everything." He cast a small spell of obscurement over her; it would not last long, but hopefully it would hold long enough for her to escape the battlefield. "Go now," he said. "Quickly."

"Thank you," she whispered. And with a Seer's certainty, she knew that she would never see him again, so she added, "I forgive you."

Gilbert's eyes filled with tears as he watched her hurry away; he had made a mess of his life, but at least he had finally done one thing right. He dropped the knife and hastily slipped away from the empty circle before anyone could notice that Goewin was gone, or that he had helped her.

Goewin moved as fast as she could--which was not very fast, considering that she was about eight months pregnant and her limbs were stiff from being bound for so long. But she managed to get a good distance away before the obscurement charm wore off and somebody spotted her.

"Hey!" shouted Andreas Avery. "The sacrifice is getting away!" He flung a spell at her, but Karasu jumped in front of Goewin, and the spell rebounded harmlessly off a magical shield. He was more than a simple warrior, it seemed.

"Get her out of here!" Karasu shouted to Satoshi.

Goewin turned to see a plump, smiling man standing at her side; he seemed to have a raccoon's tail growing out of his rump. He made a brief gesture with his wand, and suddenly a dozen duplicates of Goewin and Satoshi appeared on the battlefield. Each Satoshi smiled and extended a hand to each Goewin, bowed, and said, "This way, my lady."

Each illusion vanished as soon as a spell hit it, but it bought enough time for the real Satoshi to get the real Goewin to safety.

*** 

Meanwhile, Gilbert saw Gwydion dueling with a tall, bald black wizard, and hurried to his brother's side. "Gwydion!"

"I'm a little busy right now, Gil!" Gwydion snarled.

"Gwydion," he said urgently, "this is wrong! You've got to stop!"

"What are you babbling about?" Gwydion said impatiently. "It's too late to turn back now!" He dodged a beam of red light and shouted, "Hah! Is that the best you can do, Shacklebolt?"

Before the Auror could retort, Deirdre Donner unceremoniously pushed him out of the way, snapping, "This is my fight!"

Gwydion's face went white. "Mother!"

Her face was as cold and implacable as it had been on the day she had disowned Ariane. "You are my sons no longer! You are a disgrace to your bloodline!"

"Mother," Gwydion whined, "you don't understand! This isn't what it looks like!"

In answer she hurled a powerful curse at him; he quickly threw up a shield spell. But Gilbert just stood there, hands down at his side, not raising his wand in defense. Deirdre pointed her wand at him.

Ariane looked at Gilbert, and suddenly she remembered the older brother who had pulled her hair and teased her as a little girl, but who had also read her bedtime stories when their mother was too busy, who had climbed a tree to rescue her pet kitten, who had responded to his little sister's demands of "Carry me!" with a laughing, "Yes, Princess!" Riding on her brother's shoulders, she had indeed felt on top of the world, like a princess or queen surveying her kingdom. All this flashed through her mind in a few seconds, and she grabbed at her mother's arm, disrupting the spell. "Mother, no!" she cried. Gilbert looked at her in surprise, then smiled, the kind and loving smile she remembered from her childhood, which she had not seen in years.

Deirdre shoved her daughter aside, with a strength surprising for one who had been lying in a hospital bed until recently, and cast a Killing Curse at Gilbert. He did not try to dodge the spell or shield himself, just stood there smiling; the smile was still on his face when his body hit the ground.

Gwydion screamed in rage and grief. "You killed him!" he shouted. "You dare scorn me for being a Death Eater when you killed your own son with an Unforgivable Curse?!"

"I gave you life," Deirdre hissed, her eyes still cold and hard. "It is my right to take it, now that you have betrayed not just your family, but the entire wizarding world! You will atone for your crimes with your life, Gwydion!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Deirdre and Gwydion screamed simultaneously as Ariane screamed at them to stop. She watched in horror as both her mother and brother fell to the ground, dead.

Shacklebolt fended off an attack from Thaddeus Nott, who took the opportunity to strike when he saw that Ariane was distracted. "Grieve for the dead later!" he said gruffly, but not without sympathy. "We have no time for that now!"

Tonks suddenly appeared at Ariane's side. Sirius had removed the Squib Collar so that she could come and fight with her comrades; breaking the Ministry's terms of release was now the least of her worries. Besides, if it brought a pack of Aurors to the scene to arrest her, so much the better--they could use the help. She laid a hand on Ariane's shoulder and said, "You must be strong now, for Dylan's sake."

"You're right," Ariane said, blinking away her tears. Then she looked around frantically. "Where did he go? I lost of sight him when Mother attacked Gilbert."

Meanwhile, Voldemort had removed the restraining net from the roses. Fred and George Weasley, who had arrived with the Order reinforcements, spotted their brother Percy lying on the ground. He had lost consciousness after being struck with the Cruciatus Curse, and was just beginning to stir as his brothers rushed towards him. Nearby, the rose vines, awakened by the scent of blood being spilled on the battlefield, began to stir as well. They lashed out and ensnared Fred, who started screaming as the thorns bit into his flesh and began drinking his blood. George frantically began hurling spells at the vines as Percy struggled to shake off the effects of two Unforgivable Curses and come to his brother's aid. 

Dylan saw this and rushed over, Damien by his side. George had just cast an Incendio spell; the flames scorched the vines slightly and caused them to loosen their hold on Fred, but not release him completely.

"Let him go!" Dylan shouted. The vines quivered rebelliously. "Let him go, I said! I command it, as your master!" The vines very reluctantly released Fred, and George and Percy--who was rather wobbly on his feet himself--hustled their wounded brother to safety. A tengu showed up to lead them to Chizuru's field hospital, which had been set up a short distance from the battlefield.

The vines were stirring restlessly, angry at being deprived of their prey. "Attack the Death Eaters!" Dylan ordered. They shot out, stretching to their full length--much longer than Dylan had known they could reach--and just managed to reach Antonin Dolohov, who was engaged in combat with Professor Lupin. The vines wrapped around his ankle; before he had a chance to exclaim, they dragged him back towards the flower pot they were anchored in, knocking him off his feet and causing him to drop his wand. The vines converged on him, wrapping themselves around the full length of his body as he screamed hysterically. 

Lupin's eyes widened, and he had only a moment to nod at Dylan in acknowledgment before being attacked by Walden Macnair. Dylan was about to go to Lupin's aid when a trio of Dementors surrounded him and Damien, and they had to stop to cast Patronuses to drive the Dementors back. Ariane had spotted him by now, and was hurrying over to her son.

A giant toppled behind Lupin, brought down by several tengu, and the loud crash startled him, distracting him long enough for Macnair to strike at him with a curse. It struck him squarely, but did not kill him as it should have; he felt a sudden surge of heat against his chest as the protective charm Kamiyama had given all the Order members absorbed the brunt of the attack and was instantly destroyed, crumbling into ash. But the remaining force of the attack knocked him backwards, causing him to fall and drop his wand. Macnair grinned and moved in for the kill.

Snape was engaged in combat with Rabastan Lestrange and had not yet noticed. Dylan and Damien had just managed to drive back the Dementors and would not be able to react in time. But someone else was watching...

Brad Doherty had followed Draco and the others to the Death Eater ceremony. He had watched from a distance, hidden behind a tree, at first with excitement, then with increasing fear and horror. Lupin and Macnair had unknowingly drifted near his hiding place, and when the boy saw his Professor in danger, he acted without thinking. 

Brad leaped out and shouted, "Protego!" A magical barrier sprung up in front of Lupin, reflecting Macnair's spell back at him. He was not able to completely evade it, and screamed in pain as he was wounded by his own curse.

Meanwhile Bellatrix Lestrange saw an opportunity, and hurled a curse at Dylan, who was still staring in shock at Brad and Lupin. A beam of red light shot out of her wand towards the boy.

"NO!" screamed Snape, breaking off his duel with Rabastan, but he was too far away, he knew he would be too late...then he had to duck as Rabastan laughed and threw another curse his way.

Ariane had no time to raise her wand; she simply flung herself in front of her son, straight in the path of Bellatrix's spell; it hit her squarely in the chest.

"MOTHER!" Dylan screamed as Ariane fell to the ground, the front of her robes now soaked with blood.

Tonks stepped up to duel with Rabastan, freeing Snape to rush to Dylan's side. As he ran, he hurled a Killing Curse at Bellatrix, not caring that he might be punished for it after the battle was over. She managed to dodge it and laughed, but then she saw Math, his face filled with fury at the sight of his niece being struck down, and fled the scene.

"Mother, please don't die!" Dylan begged, kneeling at Ariane's side as tears streamed down his face.

"It's all right, Dylan," she whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek. "Don't cry; it's all right, I can finally be with your father now." Then her gaze shifted to a point over his shoulder and she smiled. Dylan looked behind him but saw nothing. "Evan," Ariane whispered, and she died. What must have been a stray gust of wind gently brushed across Dylan's cheek in what felt like a caress as he threw himself across his mother's body, sobbing.

Lupin, Snape, Damien, Brad, and Math were all gathered around him. Snape placed a hand on Dylan's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dylan," he said in a voice low and hoarse with grief. "But we have no time to mourn our dead now."

"My mother's dead!" Dylan screamed.

"Dylan--" Lupin started to say in a gentle voice.

"Yes, she is," Snape said harshly, and Lupin blinked in surprise. "She gave her life to save yours; will you let yourself get killed and make her sacrifice for naught?"

The stern, familiar tone of the Potions Master's voice seemed to snap Dylan out of his hysteria. "No, sir," he said firmly. There was still sorrow in his eyes, but also grim determination.

"Good lad," Snape said, squeezing his shoulder. "Let's go fight some Death Eaters." Dylan smiled, still with that grim look in his eyes.

*** 

Meanwhile, at the moment of Ariane's death, the roses exploded into a frenzy. They immediately dropped Dolohov's body, although it was not yet completely drained of blood, and shot out in Bellatrix's direction. She saw them heading her way, turned, pale, and ran as fast as she could. The vines whipped the air, as if in anger and frustration, when Bellatrix ran out of their reach. But then they rustled eagerly as Voldemort, who was trying to evade Dumbledore, crossed their path. He felt the thorns pierce his flesh and he screamed in fear and rage, hurling spells at them, trying to force them to let him go. His screams were drowned out by the howling of the wind, which sounded strangely like vindictive laughter...it almost sounded like Evan Rosier's voice. Then the wind died away, and the air was still again.

"Master!" Rodolphus Lestrange shouted, loyally rushing to his Lord's aid. He cast spells of flame and withering; the vines loosened a little, but would not let go. Voldemort reached out, grabbed Lestrange's arm, and thrust his loyal servant into the heart of the vines. The vines released the Dark Lord and wrapped around their new captive, who was screaming in pain and shock and betrayal.

"RODOLPHUS!" Bellatrix screamed. For all her sadism, she did truly love her husband, and she stared in horror as their Master saved himself at Rodolphus's expense. They had served him loyally, never wavering in their faith when all the others had turned their backs on him. They had gone to Azkaban, spending over a decade in prison with the Dementors sucking out every happy memory they had, loyally waiting for their Master's return. They would willingly have given their lives for him, if he had asked. But he had not asked; he had simply taken. He had betrayed them. Bellatrix did the unthinkable; she attacked her Master.

Pain erupted in Voldemort's already fragile body; he turned to see Bellatrix, mad with grief and rage, recklessly flinging spells at him. She was actually able to wound him badly before he managed to slay her with a Killing Curse.

He stumbled away and the first Death Eater who crossed his path was Thaddeus Nott. "Bring me your son," he gasped. Thaddeus hesitated; he suspected he knew what the Dark Lord wanted his son for. "Do it!" Voldemort snarled. "Or I'll take your life instead!"

Theodore, Blaise, Serafina, Crabbe, and Goyle were trying to avoid the battle, but were kept busy fending off Dementors, who didn't particularly care who they attacked, avoiding being accidentally stepped on by the giants, and generally trying not to get caught in the crossfire. Theodore saw his father heading his way, and when he saw the look in Thaddeus's eyes, started to run.

But Thaddeus raised his wand and shouted, "Imperio! Come to me, Theodore!" And Theodore found himself moving against his will towards his father.

"Stupefy!" Blaise shouted, trying to stun Theodore's father. But Thaddeus avoided the spell and hurled a curse at Blaise. Theodore heard his friend cry out in pain, but his feet kept moving forward no matter how hard he tried to stop. 

"Blaise!" he cried helplessly; he was still free to speak--for all the good that did--since his father had not commanded him to be silent. 

Thaddeus grabbed his son's arm and hustled him towards the Dark Lord. "When I have time later, I'll finish your little friend off, Theodore! Too bad you won't be around to see it!"

Serafina stepped forward to try and stop him, but found her father barring her path.

"Well, well, Serafina," he said with a nasty smile. "You're not being a very dutiful daughter. Attacking your fellow Death Eaters is treason."

*** 

Meanwhile, Thaddeus was dragging his son towards Voldemort, who was holding a red dagger in one hand. "Please, please Father, don't do this, please," Theodore begged.

"I'm not happy about giving up my only heir, as worthless as you are," Thaddeus growled. "But it's you or me."

"Mother!" Theodore cried desperately, knowing it wouldn't do any good. "Mother, please help me!" But Marta only stood there shaking in terror, tears running down her face.

Lupin saw this, and felt the change come over him. If a werewolf was faced with sufficient danger--or, if his loved ones were, apparently--he would change involuntarily, even if the moon wasn't full. A brown wolf rushed forward, leapt up, and his jaws snapped shut around Thaddeus Nott's arm with a loud crunching sound--the sound of bones breaking. Thaddeus screamed, releasing his son. Snape grabbed Theodore, who was still suffering from the residual effects of the Imperius Curse, and dragged him away to relative safety. 

Lupin released Thaddeus and slowly backed away, growling. He was not taking the Wolfsbane Potion at present, since the moon was not full yet, so his mind was not entirely human, but somehow it was not entirely animal, either. Perhaps it was because he had been taking the potion regularly for four years now, or maybe it was because he had changed to protect someone dear to him, but whatever the reason, he was sane enough to not want to kill. Some small part of him, although he was not consciously aware of it right now, did not want to kill Thaddeus because it would cause Theodore pain, no matter how much he hated his father.

Thaddeus had no such compunctions. He raised his wand with his good arm; Lupin tensed and crouched down, preparing to spring. Then Thaddeus cried out in pain and stared down dumbly at the length of steel emerging from his chest, wondering where it had come from. Karasu pulled his sword out of the Death Eater's body and Thaddeus toppled to the ground, dead.

"Don't be so soft next time, Lupin," Karasu scolded. "It could get you killed." Lupin barked, wagged his tail, and jumped up and licked the tengu's face in thanks. "Argh!" Karasu exclaimed, wiping his face and flushing with embarrassment. "Don't do that, you stupid dog!" Lupin barked again, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief, and ran back onto the battlefield.

Voldemort, denied his sacrifice, grabbed Marta instead and stabbed her with his dagger. Her scream caused Theodore to look back.

"Mother!"

"It's too late!" Snape said, dragging him along. "There's nothing you can do!" Theodore did not protest, but followed numbly as Voldemort stole his mother's life-force, then cast aside her body as carelessly as a child might toss aside a candy wrapper. Then Theodore forgot about her for the time being when he saw Serafina and Blaise confronting Andreas Avery.

"Time to start behaving like a Death Eater," Andreas said; he had not yet noticed that his friend Nott was dead.

"I will never be a Death Eater!" Serafina said defiantly. Blaise stood by her side, wand at the ready; there was a bloody gash on his upper left arm, but it didn't seem to be serious. Crabbe and Goyle were watching with round, frightened eyes.

"Then you will die!" Andreas said.

"Andreas, no!" Delia Avery cried out, clutching at her husband's arm. He pushed her away impatiently, knocking her to the ground.

"Please, Serafina," Delia cried. "Don't be foolish, obey your father before it's too late!"

Serafina gave her mother a pitying look. "I was afraid of him for a long time, but not anymore. No...I am still afraid, but I would rather die than become like the Death Eaters, willing to sacrifice a pregnant woman, willing even to kill your own children..."

"Then die!" Andreas snarled. He raised his wand, but Serafina was quicker. She used her healing powers in reverse, as Snape had taught her, and Andreas cried out in pain, blisters and boils and bloody wounds opening up all over his body. "You little bitch!" he screamed.

"Expelliarmus!" Blaise cried, and Andreas's wand flew out of his hand and landed near Delia's feet. 

"Give me my wand, quick!" Andreas shouted as Delia picked it up.

"Don't do it, Delia," Snape warned, and she hesitated. "He was going to kill your daughter!" She looked from Snape to her husband uncertainly.

"Give it here, Delia, or I'll kill you!" Andreas roared. 

Snape raised his wand. "I don't want to hurt you, Delia," he warned. "But I will if I must."

"No, Professor!" Serafina cried, rushing forward. "Please don't hurt my mother!" 

Snape was distracted for a moment, and Andreas lunged forward--not towards Delia and the wand, but for Serafina, who was closer. He was, as Snape had once pointed out, a coward at heart, and he knew that even with his wand, he was no match for Snape and Serafina and her friends combined. So he grabbed his daughter, pulled a knife out of his pocket, and held it to her throat. "Lower your wands!" he shouted. "Do it, or I'll kill her!"

Snape and the boys slowly lowered their wands. "Your own daughter," Snape said with a disgusted look on his face.

"You're soft, Snape!" Andreas retorted. "Too soft to be a Death Eater! Give me the wand, Delia. Good girl."

She held out the wand, as if about to hand it to him, then said softly, "Impedimenta," and Andreas froze in place. His eyes filled with fury but his body was unable to move. Snape quickly stepped forward and pulled the knife out of his hand, and Serafina squirmed out of his grip. Both she and Snape stared at Delia in amazement. 

"You...saved me," Serafina whispered in an incredulous voice.

Delia's eyes filled with tears and she smiled sadly. "You sound shocked," she said. "I suppose that only goes to show what a bad mother I am."

"You can bemoan your failings as a mother later," Snape said acerbically. "Take Serafina and the children and get them to the castle. Don't worry, Dumbledore believes in second chances--as I should well know. I'm sure he'll plead mercy for you, providing we all survive long enough for the Ministry to press charges."

"I'm not going," Serafina said stubbornly.

Blaise and Theodore exchanged a glance. "We're not going, either," Theodore said.

"We'll stay and fight with you," Blaise said. 

Snape glared at his three students, and they stared back at him with a surprising lack of fear. "We want to fight the Death Eaters," Serafina said.

"You let Dylan and Damien and Brad fight," Theodore said. Snape scowled; he had not precisely "let" them fight. He had known that he could not stop Dylan from trying to avenge his mother, and Damien had refused to leave his friend's side. Brad had run after the other two boys before Snape could stop him. His students were suddenly becoming quite rebellious; he must be losing his touch. Or maybe it was that he no longer seemed so scary compared to the real Death Eaters...

"You don't have time to argue with us," Blaise pointed out logically. "And besides, if the Death Eaters win, they'll kill us anyway. I'd rather die fighting than end up as a blood sacrifice." 

"Just try not to get yourselves killed," Snape said sourly. 

"Yes, Professor," the children chorused, and he almost smiled.

"De--de--de--" Crabbe suddenly stuttered.

"Dementors!" Goyle cried.

A swarm of Dementors had surrounded them during their brief argument. "Expecto Patronum!" Snape, Delia, and the children shouted, as Andreas tried to shake off the Impediment Curse. Theodore and Serafina produced their weasel and angel Patronuses; Blaise's took the form of a silver owl. Delia, who had never been a very strong mage, produced only a silver cloud, but it was keeping the Dementors away from her for the moment. Crabbe and Goyle were struggling to produce a bit of silver mist, so Snape sent his Patronus, a silver serpent, to protect them. Which left him unguarded, and he felt a chill seep into his bones as a gray, slimy, claw-like hand reached out and closed around his wrist.

Both he and the Dementor fell to the ground as a brown blur streaked towards them and knocked the Dementor over. The Dementor grabbed the wolf's head, pulling the struggling werewolf's face down towards its own...

"LUPIN!" Snape shouted, scrabbling on the ground to find his wand, which he had dropped in the fall. He did not know if the Dementor's Kiss could affect a wolf, and he didn't want to find out.

Crabbe and Goyle for once were not slow-witted and instantly made the connection that the wolf was their teacher, who always smiled at them kindly, the only person (other than maybe Hermione and Neville) who didn't treat them like complete idiots. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" they shouted, concentrating hard on their happiest memory...

*** 

It had been Goyle's fifth birthday, and all his father's friends and their children had been invited to the party. Little Draco Malfoy was already bossing the other children around, and Goyle was expected to go along with it, since Draco's father was some kind of big shot. Draco said something that the adults seemed to find very witty and amusing, and they all laughed. Goyle just sat there with a blank look on his face, and his mother sighed, looking disappointed in him, as she often did.

"He takes after his father, I suppose," she muttered.

Goyle wasn't sure why those words made him feel so ashamed of himself, but they did. But then he looked across the table, and saw another boy, who looked just as blank and bewildered by Draco's joke as Goyle did. Goyle smiled shyly, and Crabbe smiled back. That had been the happiest day of Goyle's life, and Crabbe's too, the day they had each found a best friend. They had a great time that day, feasting on cake, playing birthday games (even though Draco won most of those), and trading Famous Wizard cards with each other. It didn't matter so much that everyone seemed to think they were stupid, because at least they weren't alone anymore.

*** 

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Crabbe and Goyle shouted, and a shimmering silver badger and bear rushed towards the Dementor holding Lupin, claws outstretched. The Dementor released the wolf and fled. The other Dementors vanished as well.

Snape just sat there on the ground, his mouth hanging open. "F-full Patronuses?" he stammered, dumbfounded. "Crabbe...and Goyle?!"

Serafina, Blaise, and Theodore looked just as shocked. The wolf ran up to the boys, who braced themselves nervously, not sure if they were about to be attacked by a werewolf. Lupin jumped up and began licking their faces enthusiastically.

"You're welcome!" Goyle laughed.

"Haha, stop that, Professor, it tickles," Crabbe laughed, trying to fend off the grateful wolf.

"Crabbe and Goyle," Snape muttered, shaking his head. It was fortunate that there were no other Death Eaters nearby at moment, because he would have been too stunned to defend himself. Actually, there was one Death Eater present, but he was no threat. In the excitement, everyone had forgotten about Andreas Avery until it was too late. He was still standing where they had left him, but he was staring off into space blankly, with no intelligence behind his eyes. Paralyzed by the Impediment Curse, he had been unable to defend himself from a Dementor who had Kissed him and sucked out his soul.

_No loss,_ Snape thought privately, but refrained from saying so out loud for Serafina's and Delia's sakes. Delia was weeping, but Serafina looked calm and not particularly grief-stricken as she comforted her mother.

*** 

Dumbledore had been pursuing Voldemort, who seemed to be hanging back on the fringes of the battlefield, letting the Death Eaters do most of the fighting. But the giants, with their sheer size and strength, were wreaking a great deal of havoc. A group of Aurors finally arrived, alerted by Dumbledore's urgent message to the Ministry, or perhaps by the breaking of the enchantment on Tonks's collar--or maybe both; either way he was pleased to have them here. But one of the giants uprooted a tree and swung it like a baseball bat at an Auror flying towards him on a broomstick; the Auror went flying through the air like a rag doll and landed heavily on the ground, his body limp and still.

So Dumbledore had to let Voldemort go for the moment, and try to deal with the giants. Meanwhile, Branwen had broken off combat and retreated to the edge of the battlefield. Her old partners Moody and Sirius guarded her as they had in the old days while she performed a Summoning incantation. 

There was no time to draw a protective circle, no time to gather incense or material components. She would have to perform the Summoning with an incantation alone; something very dangerous and beyond the capabilities of most mages. But Branwen was not most mages. Some of the Death Eaters noticed what she was doing and began firing spells in her direction. She ignored them and continued chanting, trusting in her partners to deflect the attacks. 

The earth beneath their feet began to tremble and a deep voice rumbled, "WHAT IS YOUR WILL?"

"Oh, shit!" squeaked Wormtail.

"Wh-what is that?" the elder Crabbe and Goyle asked nervously.

"A Greater Elemental!" Wormtail said. "Run!" He turned into a rat and scuttled away.

"Damn you, you little coward!" Sirius shouted, but he couldn't leave Branwen's side.

Meanwhile, Branwen was replying to the elemental, "These giants are defiling the earth with blood and death. Reach up and hold them fast in your grip, that we may deal with them."

"DONE!" the voice boomed. The giants suddenly found their feet sinking into the earth--no, the earth was reaching up, over their ankles and up to their knees, at first with the soft consistency of mud, then hardening until it was as strong as stone. No matter how much they struggled, they could not break free.

"Well done, Branwen!" Dumbledore called to her, and went to deal with the giants. The centaurs were taking this opportunity to pepper the immobile targets with arrows, and he hurried off to shout at them to stop, that they didn't need to kill the giants now that they were no longer a threat.

Branwen swayed on her feet a little, and Sirius caught her in his arms. "Are you okay, Branwen?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes," she replied. "I'm fine. The spell just drained me, that's all. Give me a moment to recover."

"You should retreat to the castle, or at least the hospital tent," Sirius said sternly.

"No, dear," she said. "I'm fine now, really." But neither of them moved. Moody stared at them, his good eye narrowing in thought, as his magical eye continued watching the battlefield.

Suddenly they heard Tonks scream in pain, and Sirius's head jerked up. They looked over and saw she was under attack from Lucius Malfoy. They were both standing near the now-abandoned circle intended for the blood sacrifice. "She's in trouble!" Sirius said.

"Go!" Branwen said. Moody and Sirius looked at her uncertainly. "GO!" she repeated, in her best no-nonsense Professorial tone. "I'll be fine; I'm part demon, for Merlin's sake! It takes more than a Summoning spell to knock me out of commission! Go!"

But she was weaker than she had let on, and leaned against a nearby tree for support. Hidden in the tall grass, Wormtail/Scabbers saw this and crept forward.

*** 

Crabbe and Goyle senior were running away from Branwen and the elemental when they saw a figure jumping up and down on the edge of the battlefield. They could not believe their eyes; it appeared to be Harry Potter!

"Yoo hoo!" cried the boy, waving his arms as he continued to jump up and down. "I'm right over here! Come and get me!"

Crabbe and Goyle grinned at each other; if they captured Harry Potter, their Master would reward them well! They sprinted after the boy, who took off running.

"Can't you run any faster than that?" the boy taunted, running past a large bush.

Intent upon catching the boy, the two Death Eaters did not see a tengu pop up from behind the bush and knock them both on the head with a heavy, wooden staff. They toppled to the ground unconscious.

"Good work, raccoon-boy," Karasu said.

Harry Potter suddenly turned into a plump tanuki. "Good work, crow-boy," Satoshi said cheerfully. They shook hands, then set about disarming and tying up their two captives.

*** 

Tonks clutched at her shoulder; her robe had been burned away where the spell had touched her, leaving behind scorched flesh, and her right arm was dangling uselessly at her side.

"TONKS!" Shacklebolt screamed, breaking off his duel with Rabastan Lestrange. Rabastan did not try to hit the Auror in the back with a spell, but instead decided to use this opportunity to flee. The Death Eaters seemed to be losing the battle, and he was still in shock after having seen his Master murder both his brother and his sister-in-law, the only two people in the world that he really cared about. He was not suicidal enough to attack Voldemort, but he no longer felt any loyalty towards his Master, either. He decided to run, as far and as fast as he could, hoping to find some remote corner of the world where no one had ever heard of the Death Eaters. He was taking a risk, he knew, because the Dark Lord had hunted down and killed Karkaroff even though it had taken him over a year to do it, but Rabastan figured he was smarter than Karkaroff. Besides, the way things were going, Voldemort would likely be slain by the Potter brat...

"MALFOY!" Sirius roared, and a red jet of light shot out of his wand. It hit Lucius's hand, and he screamed in pain and dropped his wand. Simultaneously, Moody pointed his wand at Lucius and shouted, "Avada--"

Draco and Narcissa had both been fighting near Lucius, and Lucius reached out and grabbed his son, pulling Draco in front of him as a shield.

"LUCIUS!" Narcissa screamed in protest.

"--Kedavra!" Moody finished, unable to stop the word from coming out of his mouth in time.

"DRACO!" Snape shouted. He and Lupin threw themselves at Moody, and the three of them tumbled to the ground. Moody's spell was knocked astray in the process, causing the green burst of light to shoot harmlessly past Draco and Lucius.

Snape grabbed Moody by the front of his robes, screaming, "You almost killed a child! Are you insane?!"

"I didn't mean to," Moody protested, shaken despite his earlier declaration to the Order that the Slytherin children might have to be sacrificed for the greater good. "I didn't have time to react!" He wanted to argue that the child had been fighting on the side of the Death Eaters, anyway, but the memory of Draco's eyes, wide with horror and betrayal, stopped him. That sight would probably haunt him for the rest of his life.

Narcissa stood there, shaking with fear and anger and relief. Then she saw a metallic glint in the abandoned blood sacrifice circle--the moonlight reflecting off a small object. She reached down to pick it up, and saw that it was Voldemort's serpent-hilted dagger. She stared down at the dagger numbly. Her marriage to Lucius had been arranged by their parents, but she had been pleased with it. Lucius was rich and powerful and handsome--a proper mate for a pureblood girl of good breeding. He had always treated her with courtesy--he had never laid a hand on her in anger, like those brutes Nott and Avery did to their wives. He was a skilled and attentive lover, and despite his playboy reputation in school, after they had married, there had not been so much as a whispered rumor of infidelity. He was either faithful or very discreet; Narcissa didn't really want to know which. He was a good husband; that was all she needed to know, and she in turn always deferred to him as a good wife should. She had never had cause to regret her marriage. Until now...

"Dad," Draco whispered, staring at his father with horror. "How...how could you do that?" He felt like his heart was breaking into a million pieces; his father, whom he had loved and worshipped for as long as he could remember, had just tried to kill him.

"Come now, Draco," Lucius blustered, "no harm was done. I knew those softhearted fools wouldn't be able to hurt a child, even one who is a Death Eater."

"You didn't know that!" Draco accused. "You thought you were in danger, so you were going to sacrifice me to save your own skin!"

"What of it?" Lucius snarled. "I told you once, a good Slytherin never trusts anyone! I told you to always be prepared for betrayal!"

"I didn't think you meant from my own family!" Draco wailed.

"You're too soft to be a Malfoy!" Lucius snapped. "I should--" He gasped, breaking off his sentence, and his eyes went wide with shock; a trickle of blood ran out of his open mouth. He pitched forward onto his face, the serpent-shaped hilt of a dagger sticking out of his back. 

Narcissa stood behind him, tears pouring down her face. "You tried to kill our son, Lucius," she sobbed. "Anything but that, I could have forgiven."

Draco sank to his knees beside his father's body, weeping. Narcissa reached out to him, but he slapped her hand away. Lupin appeared at his side, whining. He licked at the tears running down Draco's cheeks, but Draco pushed the wolf away. Snape touched his shoulder. "Don't hate your mother, Draco," he said softly. "She loves you. She was trying to protect you."

Draco angrily shrugged his hand off. "She killed my dad! And you're a traitor!" He began to sob hysterically. "My dad betrayed me! My own father was going to let me die to save his own life!"

To everyone's surprise, Serafina Avery knelt beside him and said solemnly, "I'm sorry, Draco."

"Wh-why?" he sniffled.

"Because I know what it's like to be betrayed by your father," she replied. "Only for me, it happened a long time ago: the first time he hit me for no better reason than he was in a bad mood that day."

"I thought he loved me," Draco wept.

"I thought so once, too," Serafina said. "When I was very, very little. But soon I realized that he would never really love me, that I would never be anything more than a possession to him, the same as his wand or his books or his house. I cried then. He's as good as dead now; the Dementors took his soul. I was done mourning for him a long time ago--I don't feel anything now but relief. But I'm sorry about you and your father, Draco."

Draco flung himself into her arms, still sobbing, and Serafina held him, gently rocking him back and forth, as if she were comforting a baby instead of a boy a year older than her. Lupin wagged his tail, and Snape watched in bemusement.

"Look out, Severus!" Narcissa cried, looking over his shoulder. She fired off a spell, and Augustus Rookwood cried out in pain.

"You traitor!" he shouted.

"Harm my son, and all bets are off, Augustus," she said fiercely. "I was a fool not to have seen it before! I saw our dear Master try to kill Nott's son, and saw him take Marta instead when Severus and Lupin saved the boy. I saw my own husband try to use our son as a living shield against a Killing Curse. I owe no loyalty to the Death Eaters, but I do owe the people who saved my son."

"Then die with them!" Rookwood shouted. He had been joined by two other Death Eaters: Macnair and Mulciber. They began hurling spells at Snape and Narcissa, who fired back. Lupin growled, torn between the need to go after the men attacking his mate and the need to stand guard over Draco and Serafina. Sirius and Moody rushed to join the fight, after urging Shacklebolt to take Tonks to the field hospital, over her protests. That evened the odds, but the battle was still heated. Lupin let out a loud yelp as a stray blast struck him in the flank. He licked at the wound, which was rapidly healing--one benefit of being a lycanthrope--but the yelp caused Draco to look up and see that his mother was under attack. He forgot his grief and anger for the moment and joined Snape and the others in fighting the Death Eaters.

It was now five against three, and the Death Eaters looked as though they were having second thoughts. Just as they were about to turn and flee, a sudden barrage of spells hit the three Death Eaters from behind and they fell to the ground, unconscious. Delia Avery and the rest of Snape's Slytherins--Dylan, Damien, Brad, Crabbe, Goyle, Theodore, and Blaise--stood over the bodies with very satisfied grins on their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point in the story, I went back to the books to look up info on the centaurs and belatedly realized that I'd accidentally given Bane the raven the same name as one of the centaurs. I had wanted to give Professor Blackmore's raven a sinister-sounding name and "Bane" came to mind, partially influenced by the evil god Bane in the Forgotten Realms setting in the Dungeons and Dragons game--I had completely forgotten about Bane the centaur! It was too late to change the raven's name, so I just stuck with it and hoped that it wouldn't matter too much, since centaur-Bane is mentioned only in passing.
> 
> And the character of Lukas was heavily influenced by the werewolf character Lucian in the movie "Underworld"--parts of the movie were a bit silly, but I liked it overall and I really loved Lucian. He influenced Lukas's personality and scruffy looks, but I picture Lukas as looking more like Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn in "Lord of the Rings," but with blond hair. Karasu is modeled after Japanese actor Sorimachi Takashi, specifically his portrayal of Oda Nobunaga in the samurai drama "Toshiie to Matsu" (translation: "Toshiie and Matsu").


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle between Harry and Voldemort takes place. Afterwards, Snape and Lupin take a hand in determining the fate of the orphaned Slytherins.

The earth elemental's power, while great, still had its limits, and a few of the giants were too far away to be ensnared by elemental's grip. Those giants had cornered three children at the edge of the Forbidden Forest...

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted; a bolt of red light hit the giant in the leg.

"That tickles," the giant said with a grin.

"Uh-oh," said Ron. He began hurling every spell he could think of at the giants, but nothing seemed to work. Either he was as incompetent as Snape had always claimed, or the giants were too big for the spells to properly affect them.

A giant swatted at Hermione in an almost playful way, like a cat toying with a mouse. She went flying, landing heavily on the ground.

"Hermione!" Ron cried, as he and Harry rushed to her side. "Are you okay?"

She tried to rise, then fell back to the ground, her face creased with pain. "My leg's hurt--I think it might be broken."

Ron and Harry stood in front of her protectively, raising their wands as the giant who had hit Hermione approached. Suddenly a voice roared, "NOT HURT HERMY!" A huge, hairy figure ran out of the forest.

Ron's jaw dropped. "It's Grawp!" he said incredulously. "Hagrid's brother!"

"HERMY HAGGER'S FRIEND!" Grawp shouted angrily, charging straight at the giant threatening Hermione. As big as he was, Grawp was small compared to the other giant, but surprise was on his side. He lowered his head and hit the larger giant in the stomach like a battering ram. The giant let out a startled, "Oof!" and went tumbling head over heels. As he landed, his head hit a rock (well, more of a boulder from the children's point of view) with a loud, sickening crack. The giant's body twitched once, then lay still.

The other giants looked at each other, then almost timidly stepped forward to examine the body. "Yep," one said. "His brains are oozing out. Golgomath's dead. The Gurg is dead; long live the Gurg!" Then he and the other giants knelt down in front of a puzzled Grawp.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, scratching his head.

Despite the pain in her leg, Hermione's mind was as sharp as ever. "Remember Hagrid's story? Golgomath was the Gurg, the leader of the giants, the one who allied with the Death Eaters. Grawp just killed Golgomath, so I think that makes him the new Gurg."

"Grawp is the king of the giants now?!" Ron yelped.

"Apparently," Hermione said, unfazed. "Grawp, tell them we're all friends now. We don't want to fight with them."

"Friends!" Grawp declared. "No fighting!" The giants nodded obediently. They were tired of fighting, anyway. Several of their number had been killed, and many more had just been captured by Branwen's elemental.

Harry raised a hand to his forehead as his scar started throbbing. He looked up to see a dark-robed figure backing away into the forest; the robes were voluminous and black, like the ones all the Death Eaters wore, but the person's face was ghostly white with crimson eyes. It was Voldemort.

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry shouted, and the Dark Lord retreated further into the forest. Harry started after him.

Ron grabbed his arm. "You can't take on You-Know-Who all by yourself!" he shouted. "Are you nuts?!"

"I have to!" Harry shouted back. "That's what the prophecy said, that no one could kill him but me! Sirius and Lupin and the others are fighting out there--people are dying! All this killing won't stop until Voldemort's dead! Until I kill him!"

"But Harry," Ron said helplessly.

"I have to do this," Harry whispered. "I have to do this alone; no one else can help me. You stay here and look after Hermione." He jerked free and ran into the forest.

"HARRY!" Ron shouted, but Harry did not look back.

*** 

Meanwhile, Scabbers the rat snuck through the grass until he was right next to Branwen, then transformed back into a man. For a split-second, she was too startled to react, and Wormtail shouted, "Expelliarmus!" Her wand went flying out of her hand; Bane launched himself off her shoulder into the air, and Wormtail hastily shot off a curse at him. The raven let out a loud squawk of pain and fell to the ground, bright red blood showing through his black feathers. Branwen, connected by a mental bond to her familiar, felt the raven's pain as if it were her own, and fell to the ground clutching at her chest.

Wormtail had not expected that, but he grinned with sadistic pleasure. He summoned her wand to his hand with an Accio spell, and snapped it in two. "Ah, Professor Blackmore," he said as he looked down at her. "We students feared you so much, you and that demonic bird of yours. You so enjoyed bullying us; how does it feel to be the helpless one for a change?"

"Peter," Branwen gasped, "I wasn't trying to bully you. I was trying to make you stronger."

"Well then, you should be proud of me now, Professor!" Wormtail snapped. "I was weak, so I allied myself with the stronger side. I am the one with the power now!"

"I can forgive some of the Death Eaters," Branwen whispered, still overwhelmed by pain. "Though they were misguided, their motives were not purely selfish. Evan, who joined for love, and Lyall for loyalty to his friend. Severus, who joined for revenge but repented and risked his life, living a lie for fifteen years to atone for his mistakes. Even Gwydion, as corrupted as he became in the end, first joined because he wanted to help his brother. But you, Peter...you betrayed James and Lily to their deaths, let Sirius go to prison for your crimes..."

"I had no choice!" Wormtail cried. "He was going to kill me!"

"So you betrayed your friends to save yourself," Branwen said. "Cowardice was your motive, Peter, and that I cannot forgive."

"Shut up!" Wormtail shouted, and bent down to slap her hard across the face. "I don't have to take that from you anymore!" His wand fell to the ground as his silver hand closed around her throat. "I'll show you how strong I am, Professor. I don't even need magic to kill you."

Across the battlefield, Lupin barked urgently. Sirius turned around and saw Branwen lying prone on the ground, a dark-robed figure crouching above her. "BRANWEN!" he screamed, pelting across the field at breakneck speed. Snape and the others were running after him, but he quickly outdistanced them.

"Peter," Branwen whispered. Although she was struggling to breathe, she was smiling, and there was a cold, sinister gleam in her emerald-colored eyes. "Do you remember the rumors about me?"

"Yeah, that you had demon blood," he sneered, tightening his hand around her neck. "What of it?"

"They're true," Branwen whispered, still smiling. She clutched at his arm with one hand, and Wormtail's mocking laughter was quickly replaced by a shriek of pain as her long fingernails sank right through his sleeve and into his flesh.

Wormtail released her throat and tried to pull his arm free, but she was holding onto him with an iron grip, with a strength that could not possibly be human. "Let go of me!" he screamed, a frantic edge creeping into his voice. "What kind of monster are you, woman?!"

"I told you, Peter," Branwen said, with that terrifying smile, "I am a demon--the descendant of a Demon Prince. And demons do not need little sticks of wood to make magic." She whispered in a sibilant, melodious, and strangely hypnotic language Wormtail had never heard before. 

The demonic magic her forefather Araqiel had taught Branwen began to take effect. Voldemort would have been envious if he had been watching, because with a brief incantation, Branwen cast essentially the same spell that had taken him months of research and the petals of the vampiric roses to develop. Wormtail let out a bloodcurdling scream as his former teacher literally drained the life out of him. He struck at her with his free hand, flailing wildly, then frantically looked for the wand he had so carelessly dropped when he had decided to strangle her. But it was too late; his struggles grew weak and feeble, then ceased altogether.

Branwen let Wormtail's lifeless body fall to the ground, and sat up, rubbing at her bruised throat. Sirius ran up to her, looking wild-eyed. He grabbed her by the shoulders, shouting, "Are you all right?!"

"Yes," she said. "I'm fine, Sirius. No need to fuss."

"You infuriating woman!" Sirius shouted. "That Summoning spell took more out of you than you let on, otherwise Pettigrew would never have gotten the drop on you like that! You could have been killed!"

Branwen was a little taken aback by the force of his rage. "Sirius, I--mmph!" Her eyes flew wide open as Sirius pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth.

"MERLIN'S BEARD!" Snape shouted, as he witnessed his former classmate kissing the Professor they had both lived in terror of as children. The children also stared in shock, Lupin wagged his tail, and Moody chuckled.

Branwen was too shocked to resist at first, then she wasn't sure she wanted to. She had persisted in thinking of Sirius as a child still, but pressed tightly against his chest with his lips on hers, she was faced with irrefutable evidence that he was no longer a little boy. She had been alone for a very long time, always keeping others at a distance, as Sirius had once carelessly and astutely pointed out. She could not remember the last time she had been held, the last time she had been kissed. 

No, that was not quite true...she had been courted by many of the demon men during her stay in Prince Araqiel's realm, but those had been minor flirtations and dalliances to pass the time. They had cared nothing for her, nor she for them. Sirius, as frustrating and stubborn and hotheaded as he could be at times, did care for her. She remembered how she had comforted him as he belatedly wept for his dead brother, and how he had comforted her in turn when she had been overwhelmed by guilt for the students she had been unable to save.

Sirius finally broke off the kiss, but he did not let go of her. His eyes were still frantic and his face was still a little pale. "Branwen...if I had lost you..." He choked up, unable to continue.

"Sirius," she whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek. Her fingers were still covered with Wormtail's blood, but neither of them seemed to notice. She smiled at him, her eyes filled with sorrow and joy and a touch of bewilderment. How strange, to discover love when one least expected it, in the midst of war and death. "When did you grow up?" she asked.

"I'm not exactly sure," he replied. "But it started when you came back into my life. You wouldn't let me take the easy way out; you wouldn't let me keep lying to myself. You challenged my Gryffindor notions of right and wrong." He grinned for a moment, then sobered. "I hated you for it, but I loved you for it as well. I...love you." As a teenager and a young adult, he had always been confident and smooth, assured of his charm and his ability to get any girl he wanted. But now he looked shy, awkward, and uncertain, yet totally sincere. Branwen decided that she liked him much better this way.

"I love you, too, Sirius," Branwen said softly.

"Like a son?" he asked, a bit suspiciously. "Or--" In answer, she gave him a very deep and unmotherly kiss. "Well," he gasped, looking a little dazed, "I guess that answers my question!"

An indignant squawk interrupted the two new lovers. "Bane!" Branwen exclaimed guiltily. "I forgot all about him!" She scooped up her wounded familiar and began fussing over him.

"I'm always playing second fiddle to that bird," Sirius said with a rueful smile.

Serafina came over to take a look at the raven. "His wounds aren't that bad, Professor. I can heal him for you."

"Thank you, dear," Branwen said gratefully.

The battle seemed to be more or less over, although it had taken a heavy toll on both sides. The giants were immobilized, most of the Death Eaters seemed to be dead or captured, but someone was missing...

"Where's Potter?" Snape asked sharply.

"Harry!" exclaimed Sirius, looking around frantically. "Where is he? I don't see him or Ron or Hermione or--"

"Or Voldemort," Snape finished grimly, the first time he had spoken his Master's name aloud since the Dark Lord had been resurrected. Defeating the giants and the Death Eaters didn't matter if Potter failed to defeat Voldemort...that was the only battle that truly mattered, and they had nearly lost sight of that in the heat of the moment.

As they headed off in search of Harry, four giants ran into view. Ron Weasley was riding on the shoulders of the lead giant, who was cradling Hermione Granger in his arms. "Stop!" Ron shouted, as a centaur nocked an arrow on his bow. "Don't shoot! They're friends!"

"Ron!" Dumbledore shouted. "Where's Harry?"

"That's what I've come to tell you! Harry ran off into the forest after You-Know-Who! We have to help him!"

*** 

Voldemort hung back from the battle as much as possible, for two reasons: one, he wanted to conserve his strength, and two, he was hoping that if he waited long enough, Potter--who would not hold back, noble Gryffindor that he was--would be wounded and weakened by the battle and be easy prey.

But the battle was not going as he had expected; he had thought he would have the element of surprise, but Dumbledore had been ready for him. Voldemort still wasn't sure how the old man had known; Severus had turned out to be a traitor, but he had not been privy to the battle plans. Voldemort wondered exactly when Severus had turned traitor, and why. Had he been working for Dumbledore all along, or had he perhaps turned coat after Voldemort had taken Dylan into the Death Eaters against Snape's advice? 

Dylan and the other children--Voldemort suspected that was Snape's motive, after seeing how fiercely he had guarded them on the battlefield today. Clearly all those years of teaching had made Severus soft, but Voldemort would make him pay once this was all over: he would torture the Potions Master's precious little brats to death slowly in front of his eyes. 

But he wondered how Severus had managed to deceive him; Voldemort had never picked up any hint of treachery with his Legilimency, yet somehow he had never quite fully trusted Severus. Well, he would torture the information out of Snape later, rip it out of his mind if he must, and next time Voldemort would trust his instincts no matter what his Legilimency told him.

But his Death Eaters were falling, one by one, and Dumbledore's unlikely allies seemed to have the Dementors and the giants more or less under control. Voldemort slowly retreated into the forest, wondering how things had gone so wrong. Then he spotted Harry Potter and his two little friends, and just when it seemed like the giants would kill them, some runty rogue giant killed Golgomath by sheer dumb luck. Voldemort cursed, but he should have expected this; the prophecy had made it clear that he was the only one who could kill Harry Potter. Apparently fate wasn't going to let some giant do it for him.

"VOLDEMORT!" Potter shouted, and Voldemort found himself fleeing in fear without thinking. As he ran, logic took over and reminded him that the boy was a green, half-trained wizard while he was the dreaded Dark Lord, who had decades more experience and knew spells the boy had never even heard of before. But he kept running, telling himself that he wanted to draw the boy away from his friends and allies so they could not interfere.

"Voldemort, you coward!" Potter shouted. "Stop running and face me like a man!"

Voldemort abruptly wheeled about and fired a curse at the boy, who yelped and ducked as a tree behind him exploded into splinters. "Did you learn to spout cliches from Dumbledore?" Voldemort asked. "I expected better from him, even if he is a doddering old fool!"

"Don't talk about the Headmaster that way!" Potter shouted, casting a hex at Voldemort.

The Dark Lord laughed, easily evading it. "Come now, Potter, you'll have to do better than that if you want to defeat me!" He fired another curse at the boy; this one hit, slashing the front of his robe open. A long, bloody gash was slowly sealing itself on the boy's blue-stained chest.

Voldemort laughed. "Celtic War Paint? A bit melodramatic, but quite ingenious! Did Severus teach you how to make that?" Some conflicting emotion flickered in the boy's eyes. "Ah, so he did! Another thing he will pay for, when I get my hands on him!"

"You're not getting your hands on Professor Snape or anyone else!" Harry retorted.

"I'll torture your friend Snape to death after I finish you off," Voldemort taunted. "He'll be begging me to kill him before I'm done with him!"

*** 

Harry flushed, feeling angry that Voldemort had forced him to speak in Snape's defense, and guilty that he felt angry about it. He wanted to protest, "Snape's not my friend," knowing it was a rather silly and trivial thought at a time like this. Then he had to fight the urge to giggle hysterically when he thought about how affronted Snape would be if he could hear himself being referred to as Harry's "friend".

"I'll kill your other friends, too," Voldemort added. "That Weasley boy, and the little Muggle girl..."

Harry's eyes blazed with anger. "You leave them alone!" he said fiercely, pointing his wand at Voldemort. "Crucio!"

He caught the Dark Lord by surprise; Voldemort cried out, convulsing in pain. He shook off the spell, then grinned and said, "Good boy!"

"Wh-what?" stammered a startled Harry.

"You used an Unforgivable Curse on me," Voldemort replied, smiling at him approvingly, confusing Harry further. "I didn't think you had the guts. That's worth a life sentence in Azkaban, you know."

"Professor Moody taught me how to use it!" Harry protested. "He--" Then Harry broke off in consternation.

"But it wasn't Moody, was it?" Voldemort finished. "It was one of my Death Eaters, Barty Crouch, who taught you how to cast the Unforgivable Curses."

"Well," Harry said, flustered and defiant, "nobody would care if I used one on you! They--they'd probably give me a medal!"

Voldemort chuckled, looking even more pleased. "Yes, they probably would. The ends justify the means regardless of the rules--that is the Slytherin way."   
"I'm not a Slytherin!" shouted Harry.

"But you could have been," Voldemort said calmly.

"I chose not to be!" Harry retorted. "Professor Dumbledore said that's the difference between you and me!"

"My dear child," Voldemort purred, "you and I are more alike than you realize. We both were scorned by our Muggle relatives. We both chafed at the pointless restrictions and rules the school imposed on us--"

"I'm nothing like you!" Harry shouted.

Voldemort lowered his wand. "Forget the prophecy, Harry; who cares what some half-witted fortune teller mumbled one night under the influence of too much wine?" He held out his hand to Harry. "Join with me, child, and you will soar to heights of power you never dreamed of before. Together we can rule the wizarding world!"

"You're insane!" Harry cried. "I'll never join you!"

"Harry," Voldemort asked in a soft voice, "why do you think you can speak Parseltongue? Why were you able to enter the Chamber of Secrets?"

"I can speak Parseltongue because you can," Harry snapped. "Dumbledore said you transferred some of your power to me when you gave me this!" He pointed at his scar. "I'm certainly not the Heir of Slytherin, if that's what you're getting at! You're the one who opened the Chamber, not me!"

"Yes, I opened it by influencing the Weasley girl with my diary," Voldemort said, "but do you really think that just anyone could have found the Chamber, Harry? Do you think that just anyone could have entered it? The Weasley boy and that idiot Lockhart went with you that day to rescue Ginny, but you were the only one who actually made it into the Chamber of Secrets."

"So what are you saying?" Harry demanded. "That I'm the Heir of Slytherin? That's ridiculous!"

"No, I am the Heir of Slytherin," Voldemort replied calmly. "But you are MY heir."

"Wh-what are you talking about?!" Harry exclaimed, looking angry and frightened. "You're trying to trick me, aren't you?"

"The blood of Salazar Slytherin flows in your veins, Harry," Voldemort said in a low, intense voice, "as it does in mine. You are my grandson."

*** 

After hearing Ron's news, Dumbledore left Branwen, Math, and Arthur Weasley--who was the ranking Ministry official on the scene, now that Fudge was dead--in charge while he went in search of Harry, along with Sirius, Snape, Lupin, and Moody. Ron of course refused to be left behind, pointing out that they needed him to show them which way Harry had gone; if Hermione's leg had not been broken, no doubt she would have insisted on coming along too. As brave as they had been tonight, the courage of Snape's Slytherins ran out at the thought of confronting the Dark Lord; they were all more than willing to stay behind, except for Dylan, who didn't want to leave Snape's side. But there was no way that Snape was going to let Dylan get anywhere near Voldemort, so he ordered him to stay back, and instructed Branwen and Math to Stupefy him if necessary.

Ron led them to the place where Golgomath had been killed--his body served as a convenient marker--and they made their way into the forest. They arrived just in time to hear Voldemort say that Harry was his heir and grandson.

"WHAT?!" shrieked Sirius. He turned desperately to Dumbledore saying, "He's lying, right? It's got to be some sort of trick, to get Harry to drop his guard!"

Dumbledore looked just as stunned. "It can't be...I thought Harry acquired the gift of Parseltongue when Voldemort attacked him as a baby...but...but..."

"But he could have inherited it," Snape finished, looking pale and troubled. Of course, Voldemort was a consummate liar, but somehow this had the ring of truth about it. Lupin laid back his ears and whined; he could not really follow the conversation in his wolf form at present, but he could sense the fear and distress in his companions. Snape reached down almost absent-mindedly to scratch behind Lupin's ears.

Black raised his wand and ran forward; Snape grabbed at him but missed, Black's robes slipping through his fingers. "Black, you idiot!" Snape hissed. Stupid Gryffindor, always acting without thinking!

Sirius seemed to hit some kind of invisible force field before he got within ten feet of Harry and the Dark Lord, and was thrown back violently. Oddly enough, neither Harry nor Voldemort seemed to notice, as if they were in their own little world.

Sirius groaned and sat up slowly while Lupin sniffed at him anxiously and Snape said sourly, "You're lucky you didn't get yourself killed, Black, not to mention the boy. You don't just go charging in on the Dark Lord like that--at least, not if you want to survive."

"I don't think it's Voldemort's doing," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "I think it's the prophecy. It said that one of them must kill the other, and apparently it's intent on letting them do that without interference."

"So we're just supposed to sit here and watch?!" Sirius asked indignantly.

"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore said wearily, the full weight of his one-hundred fifty and some odd years showing on his face. "We knew that in the end, he would have to face Voldemort alone."

"So there's nothing we can do?" Ron asked helplessly.

Dumbledore laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "We can believe in him, Ron."

"Fat lot of good that will do," Snape muttered, and for once, Black looked as if he agreed. He clearly wanted to be there fighting beside his godson, and for once, Snape felt a little sympathy for him. If it had been Dylan there instead of Potter, Snape would be going out of his mind with fear and frustration. Lupin whined again, and Snape knelt down beside him. Lupin pressed against him, licking his face, and Snape held the wolf and stroked its fur, ignoring Moody's dumbfounded look. If they were about to be killed shortly, he would share what little comfort he could with Lupin in the brief time they had left; a little embarrassment would mean nothing to him once he was dead. 

"I won't let him take you, Remus," Snape whispered into the wolf's ear. If Potter fell, then he would kill both Lupin and himself immediately after, because a quick death would be far better than whatever fate the Dark Lord had in store for them. Then he frowned; no, he couldn't kill himself, at least not right away, because Dylan was still back at the battlefield, and so were his other students. He couldn't leave them to Voldemort's tender mercies...but what was he supposed to do? Kill them to save them from Voldemort? Take them and spend the rest of their lives running and hiding and waiting for the Death Eaters to catch up with them? His arms tightened around the wolf as despair filled him, and Lupin licked his face in what was clearly meant to be a comforting gesture. He had no choice now but to believe in Potter, believe that Potter would win the battle, because any other outcome was too terrible to contemplate.

*** 

Meanwhile, Harry yelled, "That's a lie! My father was a Potter--"

"Yes, and he had a pedigree a mile long, like any good pureblood," Voldemort interrupted. "But your mother, on the other hand..."

"My mother was a Muggle!" Harry shouted desperately.

"Ah, but where do you think she got her magical talent from, my dear boy?" Voldemort purred.

"There are lots of Muggle-born wizards!" Harry protested. "Like Hermione--"

"Yes, yes," Voldemort said dismissively, "but I assure you, your mother got her power from me." He grinned maliciously. "Your grandmother was a pretty little thing; Lily looked much like her--"

Harry let out a wordless cry of rage and fired a curse at Voldemort, who easily deflected it with a languid wave of his wand.

"I was walking through the village where she lived one night," Voldemort continued, "looking for Muggles to serve as subjects for my magical research. I was trying to find a way to become immortal, as I'm sure Dumbledore has told you, and while human blood does not confer immortality on one, it can extend one's lifespan, providing that the proper Blood Magic rituals are performed. And then your grandmother strolled by; she actually smiled and nodded at me as she passed. She was too pretty to kill, so I decided to avail myself of her charms..."

"You monster!" Harry screamed. "You raped her!"

"Ah, so you believe me now?" Voldemort laughed. "Oh, I used nothing so crude as brute force; a simple Imperio spell sufficed to make her do my will. And she didn't really suffer; I would have liked to have left her with the memory of shame and defilement, but I couldn't let a Muggle remember seeing me use magic, so I used a Memory Charm to erase that night from her mind. She felt nothing but a vague sense of uneasiness and guilt afterwards."

"You _are_ a monster!" Harry shouted, firing another spell, which Voldemort dodged. "I'll kill you!"

*** 

"You're losing control, Potter," Snape muttered disapprovingly as he watched from a distance, though of course the boy could not hear him. The idiot boy was going to get himself--and incidentally, the rest of them--killed at this rate.

"That sick son of a bitch!" Sirius exclaimed, looking disgusted. "To do...that...to Mrs. Evans, who was always so nice..."

"It makes sense, though," Snape muttered, more to himself than anyone else, but Sirius overheard him.

"It makes sense that he raped Mrs. Evans?!"

"No, Black," Snape replied patiently, scratching behind Lupin's ears as the wolf whined, picking up on Sirius's anger. "That he tried to spare Lily's life. Lupin told me that Potter was somehow able to recall the moment of the attack during their Patronus lessons, when the boggart-Dementor attacked him. The Dark Lord told Lily to stand aside; he only killed her when she refused to let him take the baby. The Dark Lord is not inclined to mercy, and I couldn't understand why he bothered to warn her, why he didn't simply strike her down on the spot. But if she was his daughter..."

"Yeah, old Voldie is the picture of a devoted dad," Sirius said sarcastically.

"Use your brain, you dolt," Snape said, but without any heat to his voice; he felt strangely detached when he should be terrified. Maybe it was some sort of self-defense mechanism, numbing him so he wouldn't become hysterical with fear... "It wasn't sentimentality that moved him; he was trying to preserve Salazar Slytherin's bloodline."

Sirius's jaw dropped, and Dumbledore said, "Of course! Tom Riddle was the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin, but if Lily was his daughter..."

"Then that means Lily was a descendant of Slytherin, too," a stunned Sirius said. "And Harry..."

Snape's detachment was replaced with indignation as it finally dawned on him that the boy he had so detested was the last descendant and heir of the founder of his House. "Then...then...Potter..." he spluttered.

"Oh, what does it matter whose descendant he is, Snape?" Sirius sighed wearily. "If the damn wizarding world wasn't so obsessed about bloodlines, we wouldn't be in this mess right now. Mudblood, half-blood, pureblood--what's the difference? Who cares?"

"Not me," Snape replied. "Though my mother cared very much." He smiled dryly at the shocked expression on Black's face. "Oh, I parroted the usual insults about Mudbloods, of course, because that was what was expected of me, but I didn't really care one way or the other. What did my pure blood do for me, after all?" His voice took on a bitter tone. "It didn't make me popular. It didn't win me friendship or love." He smiled without any humor and added pointedly, "It didn't make my nose smaller or my hair less greasy."

Sirius flushed, for the first time feeling ashamed of those childish insults. "Snape, I...I..."

"Oh, don't bother apologizing, Black," Snape said as Lupin whined again, rubbing his face against Snape's. He petted the wolf to comfort it and added in a flippant tone, "Since it looks like we're all going to die, you can at least allow me the small pleasure of going to my grave despising you."

One corner of Sirius's mouth twitched up in a wry smile. "As you like, Snape. But I thought your pure blood made you plenty of friends in Slytherin: Malfoy, Rosier, Wilkes--"

"Oh, please," Snape snorted. "They weren't friends; they were allies--people who wanted something from me, or people whose parents didn't want to offend my parents. That's what passes for friendship in Slytherin." He paused, thinking of Evan and Lyall, and of the way his students had protected each other on the battlefield today. "Well, among most Slytherins, anyway."

"Pure blood was no assurance of love for me, either," Sirius said quietly. "My family disowned me for 'betraying my blood'."

"Cry me a river, Black," Snape snapped in his usual snarky tone. "You had the Potters and Lupin, people who loved you for yourself, not your blood. Don't expect me to feel sorry for you." Black suddenly burst out laughing and Snape raised an eyebrow and said in an icy voice, "It's likely that we'll all be dead very soon; I fail to see the humor in the situation, Black."

"I'm sorry, Severus," Sirius gasped, trying to get himself under control. "It's just...I can't believe I'm standing here having a heart-to-heart chat with you while the fate of the world is about to be decided." Then he could no longer restrain himself, and continued laughing, although there was a slightly hysterical edge to his laughter.

Snape scowled at him, but now that it had been pointed out to him, he also noticed the ironic humor of the situation. He threw back his head and laughed, in his low, husky voice, and Dumbledore smiled although he still looked worried, Weasley and Moody stared at him and Black as if they had both lost their minds, and Lupin looked puzzled but wagged his tail and licked Snape's face. 

*** 

Meanwhile, Voldemort was explaining to Harry how he had watched over his daughter, waiting to see if she would show "the potential of her blood".

"She turned out to be quite a disappointment," Voldemort sighed. "She had talent, no doubt about it, but she wasted it by becoming a foolish, noble Gryffindor."

"I can't be a Slytherin!" Harry said triumphantly, as he realized that he must have caught Voldemort in a lie. "Otherwise Fawkes and the Sorting Hat wouldn't have brought me Godric Gryffindor's sword in the Chamber of Secrets! Dumbledore said only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the Hat!"

Voldemort laughed, loud and mockingly. "You have no idea how right you are, young Potter! Only you are not really a Potter at all! None of them have been, not for a thousand years!"

"What are you talking about?" Harry snapped, sounding angry and frightened.

Voldemort grinned and his crimson eyes seemed to glow with malevolence. "Your great hero, the founder of your House, Godric Gryffindor, was not such a hero after all. He once had an affair with a married woman, the wife of the then-Lord Potter."

*** 

"WHAT?!" Sirius and Snape shrieked in chorus, breaking off their laughter.

"B-but th-that would mean..." Sirius stuttered.

"Th-that Potter..." Snape stammered.

"Is the heir to both Gryffindor and Slytherin," Dumbledore finished quietly.

*** 

"You should be proud, Harry," Voldemort taunted him. "You are heir to two Houses! A bastard heir, of course, but being born on the wrong side of the blanket is not much of a hindrance to a man with sufficient ambition and drive."   
"You're a liar!" Harry screamed. "How could you possibly know that? Gryffindor and the other founders lived over a thousand years ago!"

"Poor Godric was tormented by his conscience," Voldemort said in a smooth, insinuating voice. "He confided in his best friend, Salazar Slytherin; they were still close then, and had not yet quarreled over letting students with tainted blood enter the school. Salazar wrote of their conversation in his diary, which he left behind in the Chamber for his Heir to find. That was where I got the idea for my own diary, although I made mine a bit more...interactive, shall we say?"

"You're lying," Harry whispered, but it was more of a plea than an accusation.

"Your precious founder was a hypocrite, Harry," Voldemort said. "At least Salazar never tried to hide his faults. Godric and the Potter woman were both married--arranged marriages, as was common back then, but harmonious enough, at least until they met each other and got swept away in the throes of passion. They would have brought shame upon both their families if their illicit affair was discovered, and he tried many times to break it off, but in the end he could not resist and would always return to her. He fathered her son, who became heir to the Potter title and estate, but the child had no Potter blood in his veins. The blood of Gryffindor has flowed strong and true in the 'Potter' line, all the way down to you, Harry. It is no surprise that Godric Gryffindor's sword came to your hand."

"No," Harry whispered despairingly. "No!" Was he really Salazar Slytherin's heir? Had the great Godric Gryffindor really been a philandering husband? Was everything he thought he had known a lie? His father not really a Potter at all, and his mother the daughter of Voldemort? Which would make Voldemort Harry's grandfather; the very thought of it made him want to throw up.

*** 

"Don't listen to him, Harry!" Sirius shouted. "Who cares if some long-dead ancestor of yours had an extramarital fling? Whether he had Potter blood or not, your father was a good person, Harry! He was a brave man, a loyal friend, a loving husband and father! That's what really counts, not his bloodline!"

But Harry did not seem to hear him, whether because of the strange force field enclosing him and Voldemort, or simply because he was too overcome by the shock of Voldemort's revelations to notice.

*** 

Voldemort had tried to kill the boy with spells twice before, and both times the attempt had backfired dramatically. But this time, he thought he had finally discovered a way to kill Potter; he attacked not with his wand, but with the enchanted dagger. He lunged forward, and Potter caught his arm just in time. As Potter wrestled with Voldemort, trying to wrench the dagger away, Voldemort put his free arm around Potter's waist and drew him closer, in a grim parody of an embrace, pulling his body closer to the deadly blade...

They struggled and suddenly the blade slipped in Voldemort's grip and entered his own body. Voldemort screamed as he felt the life being sucked out of him, and Harry screamed as he felt Voldemort's power entering his body.

"NOOOO!!!" Voldemort screamed. "I will not be defeated by a mere child! If this body is useless to me, then I will take yours!"

Harry screamed as his scar seemed to explode in a burst of white-hot pain, and he felt Voldemort battering mercilessly at his mental shields. He tried to remember what Snape had taught him during their Occlumency lessons, but his control was shattered by the pain and by Voldemort's disturbing revelations, and his walls crumbled before the Dark Lord's assault...

"Control, Potter," Snape was saying coldly as they stood in his office. "You will never be able to fend off the Dark Lord if you cannot control your emotions."

_Of course!_ Harry heard Voldemort hiss, but in his mind, not aloud. _Occlumency--that is how Severus was able to hide his true loyalties and betray me!_

The mention of Snape involuntarily summoned up other memories: Snape berating Harry in class, Snape bringing a smoking goblet to Lupin's office, Lupin kissing Snape in the Headmaster's office shortly after Snape had healed Sirius...

_The werewolf!_ Voldemort exclaimed in surprise. _I never would have guessed!_ Then Harry felt a surge of malicious glee not his own. _I'll make Severus pay...I'll torture his werewolf lover before his eyes..._

_NO!_ Harry protested. _I won't let you hurt Lupin!_ He pushed back with a mental "shove," startling Voldemort, who had not been expecting resistance, and suddenly Harry was bombarded with unfamiliar memories:

A small dark-haired boy living in a gloomy, dingy brick building. It was Tom Riddle at the Muggle orphanage, Harry realized. Young Tom shared a room with a dozen other boys; many of the older ones picked on him and bullied him...

Harry tried to pull out of the memory; he did not want to feel sorry for Voldemort, who had killed Harry's parents...

_I don't need your pity, boy!_ Voldemort snarled. _Pity is for the weak!_ He showed Harry the memory of how he had slain the Riddle family. Harry recoiled in horror, and Voldemort said, _Oh, come now, boy, don't tell me you haven't wanted to do the same thing to those filthy Muggles you live with! How many times have you wanted revenge on the Dursleys for the way they've treated you, for the way they've badmouthed your parents...?_

_No!_ Harry protested. _I'm not like you!_ But Voldemort's words had woken the old anger and resentment in Harry. He remembered being locked in the cupboard, being bullied by Dudley, and worse than the way they abused him, the horrible things they said about his mother and father...

_Yes,_ Voldemort whispered in a silky smooth voice. _Yes, you want to hurt them, don't you? You want to make them pay...?_

_Yes,_ Harry said dreamily, entranced by the almost hypnotic tone of Voldemort's mental voice. Then he came to his senses, frantically saying, _No! No, I didn't mean it--_

_Yes, you did, Harry,_ Voldemort replied. _If only for a second, you did. You wanted to hurt them, kill them..._

_No,_ Harry sobbed, but they were in his mind and he could not hide from the truth here. He had wanted to hurt the Dursleys, even kill them, if only for one insane moment. Despairingly he thought that Voldemort was right; Salazar Slytherin's blood must run in his veins, that was why he was having such evil thoughts...

_That's right,_ Voldemort whispered. _We are alike, you and I, do not resist me...it is your heritage, Harry. Surrender to me...embrace the serpent within you..._

Voldemort was working his way further and further into Harry's mind; Harry knew that if he didn't stop Voldemort soon, he would cast Harry out of his own body, condemning him to death or perhaps some ghost-like existence while Voldemort lived on in Harry's body. But despair overwhelmed him, and he could not seem to summon up the will to fight.

_He's right,_ Harry thought. _I'm no better than Slytherin, I've messed everything up, I hurt the people around me._ His own parents had died for his sake, he had gotten Cedric killed during the Triwizard Tournament, he had almost gotten Sirius and his other friends killed last year when he'd believed Voldemort's false vision and rushed to the Ministry to "rescue" Sirius. If Snape hadn't been there to save him...that thought suddenly conjured up a series of images in Harry's mind:

Snape healing Sirius. Snape teaching Harry Occlumency. Snape concocting a convoluted plot in order to get Dobby to take the healing salve to Harry after Umbridge's detention punishment last year. Professor Blackmore telling Harry, "Severus was a very complicated boy, and is now an even more complicated man, but he was not, and is not, evil...if you are thinking in terms of black and white, you might call Professor Snape a shade of gray." Lupin saying, "When we were in school, I was impressed by his passion for knowledge and his sharp Slytherin wit," and "He is bitter and cantankerous, but also brave, honorable, and loyal." Lupin defending the Slytherins in class from the Gryffindors' insults. The Sorting Hat singing, "Hogwarts is in danger from external deadly foes, and we must unite inside her or we'll crumble from within..." Dumbledore saying, "You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students. His own rare gift, Parseltongue--resourcefulness--determination--a certain disregard for the rules." And finally, the strange young Japanese girl telling him, "The Lion must embrace the Serpent in the end."

And suddenly Harry laughed out loud; it all made sense now! "The Lion must embrace the Serpent"--it meant he had to embrace both his Gryffindor and Slytherin qualities: bravery and loyalty; resourcefulness and "a disregard for the rules". He finally understood that Slytherin traits were not always a bad thing; Slytherins were often sly and devious, yes, but Snape had used those qualities on behalf of the Order to carry out his work as a spy. A Gryffindor could probably never have kept up the act of a loyal Death Eater for over fifteen years; a Gryffindor probably could not have successfully pretended to be a Death Eater in the first place. 

Snape was bitter and unpleasant and extremely unfair as a teacher, but he had protected Harry despite the hatred he felt for Harry's father, and he had saved the life of someone he hated--Sirius--for Lupin's sake. Snape knew a great deal about the Dark Arts, yes, but that knowledge had enabled him to cast the forbidden Blood Healing spell that had saved Sirius's life. Harry didn't know if he could ever actually bring himself to like Snape, but right now he was extremely grateful to the man because he had helped Harry to understand what a Slytherin was, both good and bad.

Voldemort recoiled in revulsion at the sudden outpouring of joy in Harry's mind. Harry embraced the Serpent within him, and in the forest, Dumbledore and the others watched in amazement as Harry laughed and physically embraced the Dark Lord. Harry forced Voldemort out of his mind and back into his own dying body.

"NOOO!!!" Voldemort wailed. He tried to escape the shell of his dying body; existing as a disembodied spirit was better than dying completely, and he could wait for another chance to rise and strike again...but Harry sensed this, and threw up walls, not around his own mind, but around Voldemort's. He pictured them as solid brick walls, high and unbreakable; Voldemort frantically beat upon the walls, flinging himself against them again and again, but Harry poured all his strength into those walls and they held. Voldemort screamed, both out loud and in Harry's mind, one last wail of despair and outrage and fear. And then there was nothing but silence; the Dark Lord was finally, truly dead.

*** 

"HARRY!" Sirius screamed, charging forward as Harry released Voldemort's body and let it fall to the ground. The force field seemed to have disappeared, and he was able to reach Harry's side without difficulty this time. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders and shouted, "Are you all right?!"

"Yes, Sirius," Harry said, but he felt very weak, as if his legs could barely hold him up. Forcing Voldemort back into his body--and more importantly, keeping him there--had taken every last ounce of his strength to accomplish. 

A cold and familiar voice said, "The question you should be asking is: is the Dark Lord truly dead?" Harry looked past Sirius to see Professor Snape staring at him intently. He looked as sour as always, but this time Harry could see the concern lurking in his dark eyes. Perhaps it had been there all along, and he had never noticed...Harry grinned widely, shocking everyone, Snape included.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "He's dead; not just his body, but his--spirit, soul, whatever you want to call it."

"Oh, thank God," Snape whispered, and his knees buckled beneath him. He sank to the ground next to Lupin, who was suddenly changing from a wolf back into a man--further proof that the danger was really over.

"By the way, Professor Snape," Harry added, "thank you."

"For what?" a startled Snape asked.

"I couldn't have defeated him without you."

"I--I don't understand," Snape stammered.

"Your Occlumency lessons helped me," Harry explained. "I used what you taught me to push Voldemort out of my mind and back into in his own body. He tried to escape his body like he did the last time, but I built those mental walls you taught me to make around his own mind and trapped him in there. That was how I was able to kill him."

Snape sat there on the ground, looking dumbfounded. "Those walls were only supposed to be used to defend your own mind. I had no idea they could be used in such a way."

Harry shrugged. "Well, maybe it wouldn't have worked on anyone else. There was that connection between Voldemort and me because of this..." Harry rubbed his scar. "But most of all I want to thank you, not just for the Occlumency lessons, but because you taught me what it means to be a Slytherin."

"WHAT?!" Snape, Sirius, and Ron shrieked in unison. Lupin, although his face was creased with weariness and pain from his transformation, grinned happily. Dumbledore was beaming as well. Moody just crossed his arms and waited patiently for Harry to explain; after seeing Snape embrace the werewolf, everything else had pretty much lost its ability to shock him.

"He almost defeated me when he told me that he was my grandfather and I was Salazar Slytherin's descendant," Harry admitted. "I thought it meant I was destined to turn out evil like he did, and I almost gave up..."

"I told you before, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, "it is our choices that show what we really are, not our abilities, and not our bloodlines."

"I know, sir," Harry replied. "I remembered what you told me. And I remembered what that girl Miyako told me--that the Lion must embrace the Serpent. I realized it meant I had to embrace the Slytherin part of me. I think I knew it was there, ever since the Chamber of Secrets, but I was afraid of it. But I remembered how Professor Snape helped me and the Order and Professor Lupin, and then I realized that it wasn't such a bad thing after all."

"How touching," Snape said in his most venomous, sarcastic voice, but his face had turned bright red with embarrassment, and Lupin laughed and hugged him.

"I knew that all along," Lupin said affectionately.

"So, anyway, thank you, Professor," Harry said, and fainted.

Sirius managed to catch him before he hit the ground, and began frantically shouting for help. "Oh, calm down, Black," Snape said, examining Harry briefly. "He just fainted, that's all. No doubt the duel with the Dark...with Voldemort...was very draining." He pulled a vial of smelling salts out of his pocket, broke the seal, and held it under Harry's nose.

Harry woke up, coughing and gagging. "That smells awful!" he exclaimed.

"That's the general idea, Potter," Snape said acerbically. "The scent of lavender or roses, however pleasant, isn't strong enough to wake someone up from a fainting spell." Ron and Sirius gave him an indignant look, but Harry just grinned. "Hmmph!" Snape snorted, turning away, and only Lupin saw the small, nearly imperceptible smile on his face.

*** 

When Harry and the others returned to the battlefield, several people cheered, and several more wept. There was more a feeling of weary relief than celebration, because of all the blood that had been spilled on the battlefield today. The Death Eaters and the giants had taken the heaviest losses, but the Order and their allies had suffered losses as well. Deirdre and Ariane Donner were dead; two Aurors, two tengu, and three centaurs had also been slain, and many more were injured.

The werewolves had transformed back into their human forms, and Lukas was searching the battlefield to see how many members of his pack had been lost. The werewolves had fared well for the most part, thanks to the healing power of their lycanthropy. Lukas found the bodies of two pack members who had each been killed by a single, crushing blow from a giant; death had been instantaneous--the only way one could kill a werewolf. At least in death, they had transformed back into their human forms; they could be buried as men, not beasts. 

"Lukas!" Kyra shouted, and the werewolf leader rushed to her side.

"Oh no," Lukas whispered, staring down at Brian's body; his robes had been gray, but they were so drenched with blood that they were now almost entirely crimson. "Damn it!" he said, kneeling down beside the young werewolf. "It's my fault; he was just a cub. I shouldn't have forced him to come." While Lukas mourned the deaths of the other two werewolves, they had been hardened, streetwise warriors, longtime members of his pack--they had known what they were getting into. Brian was a stockboy, for Merlin's sake, and a pampered pureblood before that. "I had no business letting an inexperienced kid like that fight a war..."

"Don't you dare do that!" Kyra shouted fiercely, balling up her hands into fists as she bared her teeth at her shocked pack leader. "Don't you dare belittle his sacrifice! He knew the risks, the same as the rest of us, and he chose to go anyway. He was scared, but that makes him all the braver, for going in spite of his fear! We should honor his courage and his loss, the same as we do the others!"

"You're right," Lukas said, bowing his head remorsefully. "We will honor his memory."

"Gee," said a weak voice, "I didn't know you cared, Lukas."

Kyra shrieked, jumping back as what she had thought was a corpse stirred and slowly sat up. "You're alive!" Lukas shouted joyfully, throwing his arms around Brian in a bone-crushing bear hug.

"Ouch!" Brian yelped. "Lukas, you're cracking my ribs!"

The pack leader released him and gave him a hearty slap on the back that almost knocked him over. "It doesn't matter; we have wondrous healing powers, as you seem to have discovered!"

Brian carefully examined his torn, blood-soaked robes and the unscarred flesh beneath them. "You're right," he said in a tone of wonder. "So there are some advantages to being a werewolf after all!"

"You idiot!" screamed Kyra. "I thought you were dead!"

"Sorry to disappoint you," Brian replied, looking a little taken aback. "Ouch!" he yelped again as she slapped him hard across the face. "Hey, what was that for?" he asked indignantly.

"For making me worry!" she snapped, then grabbed his face firmly between her hands and kissed him hard. His eyes went wide with shock, but he didn't seem to mind; in fact, after a moment, he was returning her kiss quite enthusiastically. Lukas sauntered off, chuckling to himself.

*** 

Meanwhile, Snape found Dylan and Math beside Ariane's body. Math looked very old and weary; he had just seen nearly his entire family--his sister, niece, and nephews--slain today. Dylan, of course, had never known the kinder side of Deirdre and her sons, and mourned only his mother. "She told me not to cry, that she was going to be with my father," Dylan said to Snape. "She called his name, and it almost seemed like she could see him. Do you really think that it's possible? That he...that they...?"

Snape looked down at Dylan's wistful, tear-streaked face, not knowing what to say. He doubted that Evan's actions as a Death Eater had earned him a place in a peaceful, heavenly afterlife if such a thing even existed. But on the other hand, what was the harm in letting the boy think so, if it gave him some comfort? And who knew, if there was an afterlife, maybe there was some Dumbledore-like person in charge of it, who would offer even a Death Eater a chance at redemption. "I don't know, Dylan," Snape said. "Perhaps."

"The roses went wild after Ariane died," Branwen said thoughtfully. "They dropped Dolohov and went straight for Bellatrix and then Voldemort, the two people most directly responsible for Ariane's death."

"Well, that's not surprising, is it?" Snape asked. "The roses are linked to Dylan, aren't they?"

"I don't know precisely how they work," Branwen replied, "but from what I saw, it seemed like they simply attacked the nearest available victim unless Dylan ordered them to do otherwise. Did you order them to avenge your mother, Dylan?"

Dylan shook his head. "No. I mean, I would have if I'd thought about it, but all I could think about right then was my mother..."

Lupin's blue eyes widened. "The roses only obey the commands of a Rosier," he said slowly.

"The head of the Rosier family," Snape corrected. "You're not saying...you don't think that EVAN...?"

"You think my dad made the roses do that?!" Dylan exclaimed. "His ghost or spirit or...something?"

Branwen shrugged. "I have no idea. But stranger things have happened. Sometimes the veil between this world and the world of the dead is thin enough to pass through, if only for a brief moment. That is what makes All Hallow's Eve such an auspicious night for casting Dark Magic."

Snape was not sure how comforting the idea of Evan's vengeful spirit was. He laid a hand on Dylan's shoulder and said, hedging a little, "If there were any way for your parents to be together, I'm sure they would find it." Dylan suddenly burst into tears, and Snape put his arms around the boy, a little awkwardly, and Dylan clung to him as he wept.

"Mr. Donner!" Satoshi shouted as he ran up to them. "Your wife is in labor!"  
 "What?" Math exclaimed. "But she's not due till next month!"

"Well, stress can induce premature labor, or at least, that's what Chizuru says," the tanuki replied. "She's still in the field hospital; there wasn't time to move her to the castle."

"Go," Snape said. "I'll look after Dylan."

Math was worried about his wife, but he smiled a little as he saw how Dylan clung to Snape, and how Snape held the boy--awkwardly, as if he had little experience with such things, but also tenderly and protectively. "Thank you, Severus," Math said, and left with Satoshi.

Meanwhile, Theodore was staring down at the bodies of his parents. Blaise and Serafina were with him; they seemed to be trying to comfort him, but he just stood there with a numb, almost shell-shocked expression on his face. Snape and Lupin exchanged a look; since Snape obviously had his hands full with Dylan, Lupin went over to talk to Theodore.

"I'm sorry, Theo," he said gently.

"It's okay," Theodore said in an emotionless voice. "I mean, it's not like I care. I hated them. They never loved me. They were going to hand me over to the Dark Lord; they were going to let him kill me. I should probably be glad that they're dead." And suddenly he burst into tears, wracking sobs that made his body tremble violently. "I'm sorry," he sobbed, "I don't know why I'm crying." But he couldn't seem to stop. "I shouldn't be sad that they're dead. They never cared about me."

"That is exactly why you're sad," Lupin said, still in that gentle voice. "Because they didn't protect you and care for you the way they should have." And oddly, it was Lupin and not Blaise that Theodore turned to for comfort. He stumbled forward until he bumped into Lupin's chest, and felt his teacher's arms close around him and hold him tightly. He wept, clinging to Lupin, and Blaise smiled at Lupin, a little sadly; he seemed to understand that Theodore needed comfort from a parental figure right now, not a lover.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Theodore kept saying.

"Shh, Theo," Lupin murmured. "It's all right. It's all right to cry."

"A Death Eater's not supposed to cry. A Death Eater's not supposed to be soft."

"You're not a Death Eater," Lupin said firmly, holding him tighter. "It's all right for you to cry. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I hate them," Theodore sobbed.

"I know," Lupin said.

"I loved them," Theodore whispered, in a voice so soft, only Lupin could hear.

"I know," Lupin repeated sadly, and continued to hold the boy as he wept.

*** 

The Aurors from the Ministry wanted to question Harry, but Dumbledore said firmly that the boy was exhausted and that they could wait until he had a chance to rest. Sirius was going to accompany Harry and Ron back to the castle, but paused when he saw Branwen walk over to Peter Pettigrew's body.

"Go on, Sirius," Harry said quietly. "He was your friend once, wasn't he? You ought to say goodbye."

"He's a traitor," Sirius said curtly. "He's responsible for your parents' deaths."

"I know," Harry said, "and I can't forgive him for that. But still, you cared about him once. And Professor Blackmore says that things aren't always black and white."

Sirius gave Harry a startled look and smiled. "Well, you've certainly grown up--a lot faster than I have!" 

"Go on," Moody said, gruffly but kindly. "I'll see that the boys get to the castle safely. Branwen always takes the death of a student hard; you'd better go make sure she's all right."

"Thanks, Alastor," Sirius said. "I'll go up to the castle right afterwards, Harry."

"I'll be fine, Sirius," Harry assured him. "And besides, I want to check on Hermione first."

"Dumbledore said you're to go straight to bed, young man," Moody said sternly.

"I need to make sure Hermione's okay!" Harry insisted.

"Right," Ron said firmly. "And I want to make sure Fred's all right, and Percy, too. He's a stuck-up git, but he is my brother."

"You might as well give in, Alastor," Sirius laughed. "You'll get no peace until you do; it's that combination of Gryffindor stubbornness and loyalty."

"Well, loyalty to your friends and comrades is a good thing," Moody acknowledged, looking more approving than displeased at the boys' defiance. "All right, just a quick visit to the hospital wing, and then straight to bed with both of you."

Sirius went over to Branwen, who was staring down at her former student. "I wish I could say that I'm sorry he's dead, but I'm not," she said.

"He deserved it, the little rat," Sirius said, then sighed. "We were friends once; I wonder where he went wrong? Was he always cowardly and selfish, and we just never noticed, or was there some point at which he started to change, some point at which we could have prevented it?" Sirius looked a bit shamefaced. "Peter was a tagalong; he was always happy to go along with whatever James and I did. We loved him, but maybe we didn't pay as much attention to him as we should have. We didn't really treat him as an equal, more like a follower. We did that to Remy, too, to a lesser extent; we just took it for granted that they would follow our lead." Sirius grimaced. "Our Gryffindor arrogance, I suppose."

"I don't know," Branwen said, shaking her head. "I wasn't as close to the Gryffindors as I was to the Slytherins. For most of the Death Eaters, I can almost pinpoint the moment where things went wrong: for Severus, it was the Shrieking Shack; for Evan, it was when Ariane's mother tried to break off their romance. I can even see how Lucius Malfoy was almost destined to become a Death Eater from the moment he was born; his parents were just as cold and calculating, just as arrogant and prejudiced as he was. It's no surprise that he turned out the way he did, but Peter's family seemed to be kind and loving. They had a bit of the typical pureblood snobbishness, but by no stretch of the imagination were they Death Eater sympathizers. I really don't know, Sirius. Maybe it was the desire to be more than a follower. Maybe it was simply fear, and he did not have the strength to defy Voldemort as you and James did. He would not be alone; many people stood by and did nothing both during the first war and when Voldemort rose again because they were afraid. Even Marta Nott, with her own son about to be killed before her eyes, could not summon up the courage to save him."

"Poor kid," said Sirius, although he had never expected to feel pity for a Death Eater's child. But he knew how it felt to be abandoned and betrayed by his family, although his parents had not lacked courage, just compassion.

"At least Delia and Narcissa finally found the strength to save their children," Branwen said, and they looked over at Draco, who had finally allowed his mother to hold him as he wept for his father--not just Lucius's death, but the loss of the idealized, loving father who had never really existed.

Sirius watched, feeling uncomfortable. He had hated Narcissa for a long time, for the way she had insulted and snubbed their cousin Andromeda for marrying Tonks's Muggle-born father, for joining the Death Eaters along with Lucius. But whatever else she was, she was a mother who loved her son, and she had fought alongside them today for Draco's sake.

Suddenly a couple of Aurors came up to the Malfoys; they seemed to be trying to arrest Narcissa as Draco protested. Draco took out his wand and the Aurors whipped out theirs. Snape looked up, a worried expression on his face, but Dylan was still clinging to him, sobbing. Sirius decided he'd better hurry over before someone fired off a spell and started another battle.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"We're trying to take this Death Eater into custody," one of the Aurors snapped.

"She may have been a Death Eater once, but no longer," Sirius said. "In the end, she chose to fight alongside us."

"And who are you?" The second Auror asked in a haughty tone.

"Her cousin. Sirius Black." The two Aurors stared at him in shock--as did Narcissa and Draco--and Sirius continued, "I understand that you have to question her, but at least have the decency to let her say goodbye to her son first."

The Aurors began to mutter and grumble, but Arthur Weasley came up and said, "It's all right, do as he says."

The Aurors subsided reluctantly. "What about the kid? Isn't he one of them, too?"

"He fought with us against Rookwood, Macnair, and Mulciber," Sirius said fiercely, "the same as Narcissa."

"He is my student," the Headmaster said, appearing almost out of nowhere, and the two Aurors jumped a little. "He will remain in my custody here at school while you complete your investigation."

The Aurors were too intimidated to argue with the likes of Albus Dumbledore. "Fine," the first Auror said reluctantly, "but you'll be held personally responsible for him."

"Of course," Dumbledore said with a pleasant smile.

"Mum--" Draco said, looking pale and anxious.

"It's all right, Draco," Narcissa said, embracing him. "Go to Severus if you need anything while I'm gone."

"I'll send a lawyer down to the Ministry to meet you," Sirius told his cousin. He gave the Aurors a pointed look. "And I expect no harm to come to her while she's in your custody. I haven't forgotten how some us were condemned without a trial the first time around."

The Aurors muttered again, but Arthur said, "I'll see that she--that all the prisoners--are treated fairly, Sirius."

"Thank you, Sirius," Narcissa said, giving him a bewildered but grateful look.

"Why're you helping us?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"Because you're family," Sirius replied, and was surprised to find that he meant it. "I don't really have much family left, except for Tonks." Draco looked a little puzzled, and Sirius grinned and said, "Another black sheep of the family; I'll introduce you to her sometime. And besides, Remus seems to think that you're worth saving, and he's a better judge of character than I am."

As Snape watched Black stand up for Narcissa and Draco, he felt the last lingering shreds of hatred and resentment for his childhood enemy suddenly dissipate. With that simple act of compassion towards one of the Slytherin students Snape had tried so hard to save, he found that he was finally able to forgive Black. He doubted that he would ever really like the man, but he no longer hated him. It was just as well, Snape supposed, since Black and Branwen seemed to have been struck by Cupid's arrow on the battlefield. He thought his old Professor would have had better taste than that, but ah well...love wasn't really a logical thing. After all, who would ever have dreamed that a former Death Eater from a long line of pureblood snobs could have fallen in love with a Gryffindor werewolf? 

Suddenly, Snape felt surprisingly lighthearted, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders: the Dark Lord was dead; his feud with Black was over, which should make Lupin happy; and all of his students were safe, from Draco and Dylan down to Crabbe and Goyle. He had not lost even one, in body or in spirit, to the Death Eaters. He would have laughed out loud with joy, except that he didn't want Dylan, who was still weeping in Snape's arms for his dead mother, to take it the wrong way. But he smiled across the battlefield at Lupin, who smiled back at him.

*** 

Finally, all the bodies had been removed from the grounds, to be taken to the morgue or returned to their families, and all the prisoners had been taken into custody. Branwen and Sirius stopped by the field hospital on their way back, where the patients were being moved to either the hospital wing in the castle or to St. Mungo's. To their surprise, they found two more Death Eaters--Jugson and Travers--trussed up like Christmas turkeys; a pair of Aurors were preparing to transport them back to the Ministry for questioning. Chizuru smiled and pointed to her student helpers. "The children subdued the Death Eaters when they tried to attack the hospital tent. They also kept the Dementors at bay."

The members of Dumbledore's Army, along with Pansy and Millicent, grinned proudly. Mamoru and Tsuneko Kamiyama smiled. "Yes, they did very well," Mamoru said. "My sister and I were hardly needed here." He patted Neville on the shoulder. "Longbottom here shows great promise; he knocked out that one--Jugson?--single-handedly with a Stupefy spell." Neville beamed happily.

"The protective charms we wove in Professor Chizuru's class helped too," Ginny said. "It deflected a hex the Death Eaters cast at me." She extended her wrist, showing Branwen the charm she was wearing like a bracelet; the cloth was slightly scorched from having absorbed the effects of the spell.

As Branwen listened to her students' accounts of the battle and praised their efforts, Sirius went to check on Tonks. She was lying on a makeshift pallet in the tent, and to his surprise, he found Kingsley Shacklebolt sitting by her side holding her hand. 

"So this is your secret crush?" Sirius exclaimed.

"Sirius!" Tonks shouted indignantly, her face turning bright pink, which made an interesting contrast to her violet hair. She glared at him for a moment, then she and Shacklebolt looked at each other and grinned, a little sheepishly. "Well, it wasn't a crush, precisely," Tonks said, still flushing. "I just didn't think Kingsley was interested; he seemed to think of me like a kid sister..."

"My, my," Sirius said, "love seems to be blossoming all over the battlefield. Nothing like the threat of imminent death to bring out your true feelings, I suppose." He had also noticed two of Lupin's werewolf friends kissing passionately, oblivious to everything around them. 

"What are you talking about?" Tonks asked curiously.

"I'll tell you later," Sirius said with a grin. "I've got to get up to the castle and check on Harry."

"We'll be moving her to St. Mungo's," Shacklebolt said, still looking a little sheepish. "Her arm needs more healing than Chizuru can provide here."

"I'll come by and visit you later, Tonks," Sirius said, bending down to kiss her cheek. Then he gave Shacklebolt a mock-stern look. "And I'll expect you to do right by my favorite cousin."

"SIRIUS!" Tonks shouted, as Shacklebolt seemed to flush deeply enough for his dark brown cheeks to show a hint of red.

"Well, he is old enough to be your father," Sirius teased. "I've got to make sure he's not taking advantage of you."

As Shacklebolt spluttered and flushed, Tonks retorted, "First of all, he's only old enough to be my father if he had been running around impregnating girls at Hogwarts..."

"Very rare and scandalous, but it has been known to happen," Sirius pointed out cheerfully.

"And second, age doesn't matter to a wizard," Tonks continued, ignoring him. "Look at Math and Goewin!"

"I'm just teasing, little cousin," Sirius said, kissing her again. "I'm very happy for you." Then he whispered to Shacklebolt, "But if you break her heart, you'll answer to me!"

"SIRIUS!" Tonks shrieked, and Chizuru came in to scold Sirius for upsetting her patient.

As the crane maiden sternly escorted him out of the tent, Satoshi walked up with Karasu leaning on him for support; there was a makeshift bloodstained bandage wrapped around his right leg. The tanuki had provided the bandage, judging by the ragged hem of his robe.

"Karasu!" Chizuru exclaimed, running up to her two countrymen. "What happened?"

"It's nothing, just a scratch," the tengu said, looking embarrassed. "I got careless; one of the Death Eaters got me from behind."

"You should have come and had it taken care of right away!" Chizuru scolded him.

"Oh, you know how stubborn these warrior types are," Satoshi piped up as Karasu glared at him. "Fight on through the pain; stiff upper lip and all that, to borrow a phrase from our British friends..."

"Sit down right now!" the usually gentle crane maiden ordered in a tone that sounded more like Professor Snape. The hardened warrior instantly obeyed, and sat there with a rather silly grin on his face as the healer fussed over him--rather excessively, in Sirius's opinion, since Karasu's wound didn't really look all that serious.

Satoshi snickered as he left with Sirius and Branwen. "They're going to scandalize both their peoples--you British aren't the only ones who suffer from snobbery, you know. Their kind don't mix much, although occasionally a crane maiden will marry an exceptionally worthy and heroic human man. But a crane and a tengu? It's never been done before!"

"What?" Sirius asked, gaping at the tanuki openmouthed. "You mean the two of them--"

Branwen rolled her eyes and giggled; it was a bit disconcerting to hear the demonic Professor Blackmore giggle, but Sirius rather liked it, along with the almost girlish smile on her face. "Wasn't it obvious, Sirius?"

"I'm a bit dense, as you might have noticed," Sirius laughed.

"And they're royalty of a sort, too," Satoshi added, and this time even Branwen looked surprised. "Chizuru is the daughter of the leader of the crane people, and Karasu is the grandson and heir of the head of the tengu clan." He grinned gleefully; the mischievous tanuki were tricksters who loved nothing better than to stir up trouble. "Their respective royal families are going to be in an uproar! Chizuru's family were already not too happy about the fact that she left home first to teach at Mahou Gakkou, and then at Hogwarts. They'll simply--ah, what's the expression I heard one of the students use?--have a cow over this!"

Branwen just smiled and said serenely, "Change is good; if things stay the same for too long, they become stagnant. Both our peoples need to realize this, it seems."

"Oh, I quite agree with you, Branwen," Satoshi said. "It's just that I think there will be a great deal of commotion before the crane people and the tengu come to realize it as well."

"Karasu and Chizuru are up to the challenge, I think," Branwen replied, looking unconcerned. "She's quite strong-willed behind that delicate appearance she projects. People tend to underestimate healers, but I've never met one who wasn't as fiercely protective of their patients as a mother bear is of her cubs."

*** 

Lupin and Snape led their students, who were both physically and emotionally exhausted, back to the castle. No one was quite sure what to do about the roses; Snape said that they should probably be returned to the Rosier estate, but he and Dylan were too tired to deal with them right now. In the end, Dylan carried the pot of roses to one of the dungeon chambers, and Dumbledore locked and warded the room with the strongest spells he possessed. That, they decided, should keep the roses safely contained for the time being. The students were all sent to bed, except for Blaise and Dylan, who were taken to the hospital wing; Blaise to have his wound tended to, and Dylan to visit his great-aunt and his new cousin.

In the midst of tragedy, one bright spot emerged. They found a tired but very happy Goewin lying in bed, cradling a dark-haired baby in her arms as Math sat by her bedside, smiling at them fondly.

"She's so tiny," Dylan marveled, gently running a finger down the baby's cheek. The baby opened her eyes--which were silvery-gray like his own--and gazed up at him solemnly.

"Well, she is a bit premature," Goewin said, "but Madam Pomfrey says she's perfectly healthy."

"Is she supposed to be all red like that?" Dylan asked dubiously.

Math laughed gently. "All newborns look like that, Dylan. Your mother did, and your uncles, and so did you."

Dylan blinked back tears at the mention of his mother; he had thought he could not possibly have any tears left in his body to shed, but apparently he did. "What are you going to name the baby?" he asked.

Goewin smiled at him tenderly. She and Math had picked a name out soon after they had learned she was pregnant, but Goewin had changed her mind and chosen another, with Math's blessing. "I thought we'd call her Ariana," she said softly.

Dylan stared at her for a moment, both touched and stunned, then whispered, "Thank you," and burst into tears. Snape held the boy while he wept, ignoring Pomfrey as she stared at him in shock. Dylan cried only for a little while, perhaps because these were tears of joy as well as sorrow, or perhaps just because he had no energy left to cry for very long. In any case, once his tears were dried, Snape took him back to his dorm and told him to go straight to bed.

It had been night when the battle started, but now the sun was rising, and with it would come a horde of Ministry officials, reporters, and frantic parents, all demanding answers. Dumbledore, however, insisted that their questions could wait while his teachers got a few hours of rest, and ordered them to their beds as sternly as Snape had ordered his students to theirs.

So Lupin and Snape headed to the Potions Master's quarters. Lupin was tempted to fall into bed fully dressed, but his robes were stained with Thaddeus Nott's blood, and still damp with Theodore's tears, so he wearily began undressing, and Snape followed suit. As Snape took off his shirt and let it fall to the floor, he suddenly froze in place, staring at his arm.

"Severus?" Lupin asked in concern. "Are you all right?"

"The Mark," Snape said in a hoarse whisper; he seemed to be having trouble making his voice work.

Lupin came over, grasped Snape's wrist, and gently turned his arm over to examine it. The skin on the inside of his left forearm was smooth, white, and unmarked. There was not even the faintest hint left of the skull-and-snake tattoo. "The Dark Mark," Lupin gasped. "It's gone! It must have vanished when Voldemort died!"

Snape fell to his knees, his arm sliding out of Lupin's grasp, and for only the fourth time in his entire adult life, he wept. He sobbed uncontrollably, staring at the blank spot on his arm, at the missing Mark he had thought he would never be free of. He had been a slave to Voldemort for almost twenty years, and now he was finally free...

Lupin sat down on the floor beside his lover and put his arms around Snape, holding him as he wept. Lupin found himself weeping too, and they clung to each other until they were all cried out, then crawled into bed and immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*** 

In the morning, they had to deal with all the things they had postponed, and were kept busy answering the Ministry's questions and dealing with parents demanding to see their children and wanting to know how Death Eaters had managed to get onto the campus. Somewhat to Snape's surprise, Mrs. Crabbe and Mrs. Goyle were among them, and actually looked relieved to see that their children were safe. He watched in amazement as they hugged their sons, although they had never shown much affection for their children in the past. Would wonders never cease?

Delia Avery had finally grown a spine and stood up to her husband, Lupin had won over Draco's loyal cronies, and now Mrs. Crabbe and Mrs. Goyle had turned into loving mothers. Well, while they were annoying and overbearing at times, they had never joined the Death Eaters like their husbands, so perhaps they weren't all that bad, and now that they had nearly lost their their sons, maybe they would appreciate them more. Lupin walked in on the middle of their conversation and cheerfully told them how Crabbe and Goyle had saved him from the Dementor on the battlefield and that they should be very proud of their sons. Snape had to bite his lip to keep from laughing as the two women stared in shock, looking absolutely dumbfounded as their sons beamed happily at their werewolf teacher.

Snape and Lupin were too busy to eat breakfast or lunch in the Great Hall--in fact, they barely had time to eat at all, grabbing a quick bite here and there in between talking to the Ministry officials and fending off worried parents--but they did make it down to the Hall for dinner. Lupin still looked tired and drained, the result of having transformed unexpectedly without the benefit of the Wolfsbane Potion, and he looked up at Snape as they approached the entrance to the Great Hall, an unspoken question in his eyes. Snape knew what Lupin wanted, and he also knew that Lupin would not hold it against him, would not utter one word of rebuke if Snape chose to ignore his silent request. 

But Lupin looked so weary and so wistful that he could not bear to deny his lover what he wanted. After all, he owed Lupin a great deal for the way he had hurt him in the past, and had he not once promised Lupin, "When the war is over, I will gladly tell the world that you are my lover"? So he silently held his arm out to Lupin as they entered the Hall. Lupin's eyes widened, then he smiled and took Snape's arm, leaning on him for support as they walked in together and took their seats at the head table. All the teachers except for Dumbledore and Branwen stared at them in astonishment, their jaws hanging open. An excited buzz of conversation broke out all over the room from the students' tables.

Lupin grinned at Snape, the weariness in his eyes retreating for a moment to be replaced by a mischievous gleam. "Shall we really give them something to gossip about, Severus?"

"Are you referring to your threat to 'snog you at the head table in front of the entire school,' I believe were your exact words?" Snape asked in his usual sarcastic voice.

"Suh...suh...suh...snog?" gasped a shocked and horrified Hagrid as he overheard Snape's remark. Both Lupin and Snape ignored him.

"Yes, Sev," Lupin replied with a grin.

Snape heaved an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh, and replied, "If you must. Although I think you should learn to curb these exhibitionist tendencies of--"

And the Hall echoed with a great, combined shriek of surprise from the assembled teachers and students as Lupin cut off Snape's words with a firm kiss.

*** 

When the commotion finally died down, Dumbledore explained to the students the events of the previous night, and praised the bravery of everyone involved, and made a point of noting that they had prevailed because everyone--human and non-human; Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff--had united and worked together for the common good. He raised his glass and said a toast to those who had fought, then asked for a moment of silence for those who had died. He ended his speech on that solemn note, and the meal commenced, in a much more subdued manner.

The Potions Master's pale face remained a little red for the rest of the evening, and he spent most of the meal trying to scowl viciously at the teachers and students who kept casting him sidelong glances of disbelief. But the scowl tended to slip and the corners of his mouth would twitch, threatening to turn into a smile every time he looked at Lupin, who looked radiantly happy and just a little smug. Dumbledore and Branwen, of course, looked extremely smug and pleased with themselves whenever they looked at the happy couple. 

Even Sirius, who was sitting at the head table as a guest that night, smiled a little at them. He was not quite sure when he had stopped hating Snape, although he supposed the process had started that day near the end of summer, when he had realized how much Snape cared for Dylan, and when he had finally acknowledged to himself the real reasons he had sent Snape to the Shrieking Shack back in fifth year. He wasn't sure if he and Snape would ever actually be friends, but he supposed that they would learn to get along with each other for Moony's and Branwen's sakes. 

Branwen adored the slimy git--and Sirius supposed he should be grateful for her capacity for affection, since it also enabled her to love a thick-witted, stubborn, hotheaded Gryffindor git as well. Besides, he had to admit that his main objection to Lupin's and Snape's relationship--his fear that Snape would hurt Remus--no longer applied, because it was clear from that little display of affection that Remy had the Potions Master wrapped around his little finger; he could never in a million years have imagined that Snape would ever let Lupin kiss him and embarrass him in front of the entire school, but he had.

*** 

Later that night, Snape and Lupin lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. "Sev?" Lupin asked.

"Hmm?"

"Can't sleep?"

"No."

"Me neither. And I imagine there a lot of children lying awake in Slytherin right now, too."

"You're probably right," Snape said.

"Well?" Lupin said expectantly. "Don't you think we should do something about that? You are their Head of House."

"And what would you like me to do, Lupin?" Snape asked sarcastically. "Take them some hot milk, tell them a story, and tuck them into bed?"

"Something like that," Lupin replied with a straight face, "although I was thinking hot chocolate instead of plain milk."

Snape laughed and gave in. "Aren't you worried about the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs as well?"

"Yes, but they have their own Heads of House to look after them," Lupin said, looking serious now. "And besides, it was Slytherin that suffered the most losses in this war. We now have two children who are orphans, two who have lost their fathers, and two whose fathers are back in prison. And many of the others probably have families who sympathized with the Death Eaters. However much they feared the Death Eaters, a part of them must have been drawn to the promise of power, the promise to make Slytherin the greatest of all the Houses, instead of one despised and mistrusted. They will need comfort, Severus, and reassurance."

"Very well," Snape sighed. "But you have to come with me; I'm not very good at comforting children."

"You did well enough with Dylan," Lupin said with a smile. "But of course I'll come with you, since you're not ashamed to be seen with me anymore," Lupin teased.

"I'll have you know, Lupin," Snape complained, "that you're utterly destroying my reputation."

"Poor baby," Lupin said, kissing his cheek.

"Cut that out!"

"You don't want me to kiss you?" Lupin asked innocently.

"I don't want you to call me 'poor baby'!" Snape huffed. "And don't play dumb with me!"

Lupin laughed and hugged him. "I love you when you're grumpy, Sev," he said fondly.

"Well, good," Snape grumbled, "since that's my normal mood."

"I love you all the time, Severus," Lupin said tenderly. "Grumpy or cheerful, compassionate or bitter. I love you always, every part of you."

"Hmmph," Snape snorted as he blushed. Then he kissed Lupin and said, "I love you, too, you irritating little werewolf. Come on, let's go comfort the brats." They climbed out of bed and got dressed, and before they left, Snape paused to put on both his serpent bracelet and the serpent ring Lupin had given him for Christmas.

Lupin smiled when he saw Severus put on the ring, and when he saw that Severus had put the bracelet on over the sleeve of his robe instead of under it. Although he put up with Lupin's "exhibitionist tendencies," Snape was not inclined to be demonstrative with his affection in public, so Lupin was touched by what he knew was Severus's way of openly declaring his love for Lupin. 

Snape saw Lupin's smile and said gruffly, "Well, there's no point in hiding it anymore after tonight, is there? Besides, there's not really any need to hide it now that the Dark Lord--now that Voldemort's dead." 

Lupin kissed him again, and pulled out the quartz good-luck charm--the first gift he had ever received from Severus, back in fifth year--that he usually wore hidden beneath his robes, and let it rest on his chest. "You're right, Sev; no point in hiding it." He sighed happily. "I've been waiting over twenty years for the chance to wear this openly."

Snape blinked back tears at the sight of the childish gift Lupin had kept and cherished during all the years they'd been apart. He reached out with one finger and traced the rune carved into the smooth surface of the stone; Lupin caught Snape's hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed his fingertips. Speechless for a moment, Snape let his fingers gently trace the curve of Lupin's lips, then cleared his throat and said, "We should get going." Lupin smiled and nodded.

They made a brief detour to the kitchen, then entered the Slytherin dorm followed by house-elves carrying trays laden with mugs of hot cocoa. Although it was after lights-out, there were a number of children sitting in the common room, looking anxious, haunted, shell-shocked, or all of the above. All of the children who had been on the battlefield were among them.

"Professor!" Dylan exclaimed.

Snape looked as though he didn't know what to say, so Lupin smiled and said, "We couldn't sleep tonight, and clearly you can't, either, so I thought we might as well all stay awake together." 

The elves began distributing the mugs of cocoa, and soon the rest of the children were coming out into the common room to see what was going on. When all the mugs had been passed out, the house-elves left, and Lupin and Snape took seats on the couch, holding their own mugs. Dylan came over and sat beside Snape, and after a moment, Damien followed. The other children cautiously began to approach; Snape was not surprised to see that most of them congregated around Lupin rather than himself: Theodore and Blaise hesitantly sat on Lupin's side of the couch, and Crabbe, Goyle, and Doherty curled up on the floor at his feet like a pack of puppies. The other children found seats on the floor or on the other chairs. Draco hung back a little, standing in front of the fireplace.

They sipped their chocolate in silence together for a few minutes, then finally Damien worked up enough courage to ask, "Um, sir? When did you and Professor Lupin, ah, um..."

Snape looked over at Lupin. "I'll let you handle that, Lupin, since the public display of affection was your idea," he said in a slightly sarcastic tone. 

Lupin just grinned. "Actually, we first got together back in fifth year, during Professor Blackmore's class. She's always been big on inter-House cooperation."

Damien choked on his chocolate. "What?!"

Lupin laughed. "Yes, Dylan's parents weren't the only ones to discover romance in her class!"

"Th-then all these y-years, the two of you...?" Brad Doherty stammered.

Lupin's expression turned sober. "Not exactly. I've always cared for Severus, but..." He and Snape exchanged a significant glance. "But our relationship could not withstand the pressures of the House rivalries. My Gryffindor friends objected to my friendship with Severus and...ah...set into motion a misunderstanding that caused us to quarrel and separate for eighteen years."

"To be fair," Snape admitted reluctantly, "the quarrel was one-sided. You tried to apologize to me, but I would not listen."

"I didn't try hard enough to get you back," Lupin replied, looking a little guilty. "I was too afraid of losing my other friends." He smiled sadly at the Slytherins. "You see, if I lost both Severus and my Gryffindor friends, then I would be completely alone. It's not easy for a werewolf to make friends." He smile grew a little warmer as he added, "At least back then. I'm very happy that so many of you have welcomed me as your teacher in spite of my lycanthropy." He smiled in particular at Crabbe, Goyle, and Brad. "In fact, I owe my life to you three. In all the excitement, I never got a chance to thank you, so I would like to thank you now. Thank you very much, Vincent, Gregory, Brad." The three boys beamed up at him with sheer devotion in their eyes, enhancing Snape's mental image of them as puppies, and he had to duck his head to hide his smile.

Meanwhile, Theodore was busy doing math in his head. "Eighteen years...that means, when you came to Hogwarts during our third year..."

"Very good, Theo," Lupin laughed. "Five points to Slytherin! Yes, Severus and I renewed our...er...friendship...that year."

"But Professor Snape got you fired!" Draco exclaimed.

"Well, there was another, um, misunderstanding," Lupin said.

"Sirius Black," Dylan said quietly. "You believed he really was a murderer, like everyone else did at the time, and you thought Professor Lupin had helped him get into Hogwarts."

"Perceptive as always, Mr. Rosier," Snape sighed. Of course, Dylan was the only one of the children who knew just how much he had hated Black. "But I was wrong. About Black being a murderer, and about Lupin helping him."

"We made up," Lupin explained, "but I still had to leave the school, until Albus convinced the school governors to let me come back this year."

"But you acted like you hated each other!" Goyle said, sounding bewildered.

"Use your brain, you dolt!" Theodore snapped. "A Death Eater couldn't have a relationship with a Gryffindor! They had to pretend..." His voice trailed off as the implication of his own words sank in. "But then...that means..." He looked at his Head of House with wide eyes. "You weren't really a Death Eater!" He asked timidly, "Were...were you ever really one of them, or were you working for Dumbledore the whole time?"

Draco cautiously crept forward; he very much wanted to know the answer to that question, too. 

"At first I was," Snape admitted. He really didn't want to confess his shame to his students, but he felt that they deserved to know the truth, particularly the Death Eater offspring; he was quite aware of Draco listening intently behind him. "I wanted to learn all the things about the Dark Arts that Hogwarts refuses to teach, and I wanted revenge on Lupin's Gryffindor friends for humiliating me." He hesitated; well, he had just resolved to tell the truth... "And for coming between us. But on the night I took the Dark Mark, they executed a man before my eyes, killed him in a Blood Magic ritual, and I knew I had gotten in over my head. I told the Headmaster what I had done, and instead of calling in the Aurors to arrest me, he asked me to spy for him, and I agreed."

"To keep from being sent to Azkaban?" Draco demanded.

"No, Draco," Snape replied, without any anger, although most his students were watching him nervously, obviously expecting him to chew out Draco, if not strike him down on the spot. "I feared my Master's wrath far more than I feared prison or even death. I did it to atone for my own stupidity, and my part in that man's death."

"You spied on us all these years," Draco said, still sounding angry and hurt, but there was a pleading look in his eyes. "You pretended to be my father's friend. You pretended to be my friend."

"He was trying to save you, Draco," Lupin said gently.

"Save me from what?!"

"From being served up to the Dark Lord on a platter!" Theodore snarled. "Isn't it obvious? Our precious Master was ready to sacrifice us all last night!"

"I was trying to save you from making the same mistakes I did, Draco," Snape said wearily, "and living with a lifetime of guilt." Draco fell silent. "And I was trying to save you from suffering the fate of Dylan's father, who died for a Master who cared nothing for him. And yes, I was trying to save you from being killed, as Theodore nearly was last night. The Dark Lord claimed we were his family, but he used us like pawns on a chessboard, and sacrificed us just as easily as one would a chess piece. You saw the reward the Lestranges reaped, and they were the most loyal of all his followers."

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, and he began to tremble a little. "My father told me not to trust you, but he turned out to be the one I couldn't trust."

Lupin reached out to lay a hand on Draco's shoulder. "It's all right, Draco. It's only natural to want to believe in your parents. It's not your fault that your father betrayed your trust."

"Why did you keep trying to help me even when I kept insulting you?" Draco asked him. "Sirius Black said you thought I was worth saving. What made you think that I wouldn't turn out to be like..." He had meant to say, "my dad," but he choked on the words, and changed them to, "...like the other Death Eaters?"

"Because you loved your parents," Lupin answered in a gentle voice. "And someone who is capable of such love cannot be completely evil. Voldemort always thought that love was a weakness, but he was wrong: love is the greatest strength we possess."

Draco sniffled a little and blinked back tears. He abruptly came around to the front of the couch, and joined Crabbe and Goyle on the floor in front of Lupin and Snape. Serafina came over and sat beside him, and he gave her a small, tremulous smile.

Suddenly, the students seemed to have overcome their shock and their fear of Snape, because they were all asking questions at once:

"How did you keep the Death Eaters from finding out you were a spy?"

"Did they ever suspect you, sir?"

"Professor Lupin, what did you do all the time you were gone from Hogwarts?"

"How did you turn into a wolf when it wasn't the full moon?"

"Will you tell us more about your werewolf ancestors?"

"One at a time," Lupin laughed.

So they kept talking late into the night, until all the mugs were empty, and the children were yawning and starting to doze off. Dylan was nodding off on Snape's shoulder, and Crabbe and Goyle were already curled up on the floor, snoring. 

"Bedtime," Lupin said softly, and they sent the children off to their rooms. Dylan woke up enough to get back to his room on his own feet, but Crabbe and Goyle were soundly asleep and could not be roused.

"Maybe we should just leave them here," Snape suggested.

"You can't let them sleep on the floor!" Lupin said indignantly.

"Oh, very well," Snape sighed. He took out his wand and levitated them to their room. "But you can tuck them into bed, since it was your idea!"

"Very well," Lupin said with a smile, and he did. 

*** 

Things were very hectic in the following week; the Minister of Magic was dead, and a new Minister needed to be selected. The position was offered to Dumbledore, who turned it down, of course, but suggested an alternate candidate: Arthur Weasley.

The Ministry officials were shocked by this, but the Aurors who had fought on the battlefield had been impressed by Arthur's courage as he had fought alongside them, and by the way he had kept his head afterwards, calmly and efficiently overseeing the roundup of the prisoners and the evacuation of the wounded. 

So a stunned Arthur Weasley found himself the new Minister of Magic; he was a bit overwhelmed and tempted to turn down the position, but the look of pride on his wife's and children's faces made him change his mind. He didn't care about the rank or the increase in pay, but things had been difficult for Molly over the years, and he wanted to make it up to her. Besides, as Dumbledore pointed out to him, he would be in a position to do some good in the wizarding world.

Even before Arthur was appointed the new Minister of Magic, Percy made peace with his family. He finally understood that his father had been right all along about Harry Potter and Voldemort, and he was touched by the way the twins had rushed to his rescue, nearly getting themselves killed in the process. And his brothers and sister forgave him for the way he had snubbed them the other year, impressed by the way he had fought off an Imperius Curse to set off the firecracker warning. Fred and George were quite pleased that their new fireworks had been used as a warning signal--and by the fact that it provided some positive publicity for their shop. Molly, of course, was simply relieved and overjoyed to have her family together again.

The Longbottom family also had a happy reunion: Neville's parents were suddenly thinking and speaking coherently again--perhaps the result of the deaths of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. Often the effects of a curse were broken by the death of the caster, the way the Dark Mark had vanished from the arms of the Death Eaters after Voldemort died. The Longbottoms remembered almost nothing that happened after the attack; the past fifteen years they had spent in St. Mungo's were a blur to them, so they were more than a little surprised to find that their baby boy was now a teenager, but they embraced him with tears of sorrow and joy. 

The surviving Death Eaters were sentenced to prison terms in Azkaban, except for Narcissa Malfoy and Delia Avery, who were granted probation because they had fought against their fellow Death Eaters in the end. That was a relief to Snape, who already had two orphaned Slytherins to worry about; Dylan had Math and Goewin, of course, but he wasn't sure if Theodore Nott had any relatives who were willing to look after him, or if those relatives were people who could be entrusted with a child's care. Rabastan Lestrange was still at large, and the Aurors were hunting for him, but no one considered him that much of a threat now that Voldemort was dead and all the other Death Eaters were imprisoned.

Meanwhile, the giants signed a peace treaty with the wizards. There was some grumbling about that, but Dumbledore pointed out that the new Gurg, Grawp, had saved the lives of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and the grumbling ceased, or at least was toned down to a mutter. The centaurs still wanted nothing to do with the humans; they had fought simply to avenge their slain kinsfolk, they said haughtily, and retreated back to the Forest. They accepted Firenze back into their ranks, though, and the centaur resigned his position at Hogwarts, leaving Professor Trelawney the sole Divination teacher once again. Snape muttered that they ought to look into hiring Miyako Kamiyama when she graduated from school; she certainly had a higher success rate than Trelawney.

The new Minister of Magic also pushed through a new law giving non-humans equal rights. This was accomplished with some help from Rita Skeeter, who wrote up a glowing account of how the werewolves had "fought heroically, risking their lives to aid the very people who had treated them as outcasts and second-class citizens". 

"Well, actually, we just wanted to avenge the death of our friend," Lukas said with an amused smile as he read the Daily Prophet one morning; Lupin had invited him to Hogwarts to give him the good news, and they were having breakfast together in Snape's quarters--well, Lupin's and Snape's quarters now. After having gone public with their relationship, there didn't seem to be any point in Lupin keeping his own rooms, since he spent nearly all of his time in Snape's. So he happily and openly moved into Snape's dungeon quarters. The Slytherin children were delighted to have him in the dungeon; in their eyes, it served to make him one of their own, a sort of unofficial Slytherin even though he was a Gryffindor. Lupin looked around the room which was now truly his, and at his lover, who was sipping a cup of coffee with a rather sour expression on his face, and was filled with a sense of contentment. It took him a moment to realize that Lukas was speaking, and he had not heard a word that his friend had said.

"Earth to Remus," Lukas said, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Oh, sorry!" Lupin said. "I was just...er...ruminating, I suppose."

Lukas grinned, giving Lupin a sly look. "You looked as smug as a cat licking cream from its whiskers! Anyway, what I said was, how on earth did you get the Skeeter woman to give us a positive write-up? Her style is more tearing people down than building them up."

Lupin grinned. "It wasn't me; it was Hermione. She arranged for Rita to get an exclusive interview with Harry in exchange for a few articles like this one. She also seems to have some kind of hold over the woman that I don't quite understand, almost as if she's blackmailing Rita."

"Hmm," Snape said thoughtfully, "she's not as much of a goody-two-shoes as I thought. Maybe she would have made a good Slytherin after all..."

"There's a sidebar here about the Wolfsbane Potion," Lukas said. "All about how werewolves are perfectly safe when they take it, and apparently the Ministry is expanding the distribution program--thanks to Arthur, no doubt." Then his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You helped invent the potion, Snape?! I didn't know that!"

"What?!" Snape exclaimed. "Did that little brat tell the Skeeter woman that?!"

"No," Lukas said, reading further. "It was your partner, Kamiyama. He says that he felt guilty about taking the credit for it all these years, and he wanted to see you get the acknowledgment you deserve." Lukas grinned, exposing his sharp canines. "He makes you out to be quite the hero, Severus. He says you kept your role in the development of the Wolfsbane Potion secret so as not to jeopardize your ability to spy on the Death Eaters."

"Meddling old wizards," Snape mumbled as he flushed slightly.

"You _are_ a hero, Sev," Lupin said, kissing him on the cheek. "I think the whole world should know that!"

Snape's face turned even more red as he glared at Lupin for kissing him in front of the other werewolf. "Most people probably think I only turned on Voldemort to save my own skin."

"Well, this article hints that you developed the potion out of affection for a certain werewolf," Lukas said, still grinning.

"WHAT?!" Snape howled. "Who told her that?! It must be one of the students! When I find out which brat it was, I'll--"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Severus," Lupin interrupted, "I'm sure half the wizarding world must know by now. After we kissed at the head table--"

"You kissed me," Snape corrected him.

"--I'm sure many of the students owled their parents with the shocking news," Lupin continued calmly. "And they in turn spread the news to their friends, and so on." Snape groaned loudly. "You're not ashamed of me, are you, Severus?"

"No, Remus," Snape said hastily, looking guilty, then saw that Lupin was only teasing him. He sighed. "It's just a bit embarrassing to have my love life being discussed not only among the entire student body, but in the Daily Prophet as well!" Lukas and Lupin laughed. "I'm so happy that I was able to entertain you," he said sarcastically, and the werewolves laughed even harder. He sighed and shook his head. "Taking children hot chocolate in the middle of the night, and now this damned newspaper article, making me out to be either a hero or a lovesick idiot! You have completely ruined my reputation, Lupin!"

"I'm so sorry, Sev," Lupin said, not looking sorry at all. "But I knew all along that you were a softie underneath that big bad Potions Master act."

"LUPIN!"

"Are you two always like this?" Lukas asked, looking amused.

"No," Snape said.

"Yes," Lupin said at the same time.

Lukas chuckled and quietly got up and left the room, leaving Lupin and Snape to happily argue with each other. It was quite some time before they noticed he was gone.

*** 

Harry reluctantly agreed to give Rita Skeeter an interview, in order to help Lupin and the other werewolves. And Hermione's threat of turning Rita in to the Ministry as an unregistered animagus ensured that she printed his exact words rather than twisting them around. After some inner debate, Harry left out the part about being descended from both Slytherin and Gryffindor; it was bad enough being the Boy Who Lived and the savior of the wizarding world--he could imagine how much more unwanted attention he'd receive if the identity of his ancestors became known.

But he did make a point of telling Rita how he had overcome Voldemort by embracing both the Slytherin and Gryffindor qualities within him, and pointed out how the school had united as the Sorting Hat said they should, with students from all four Houses coming together to defend Hogwarts against the Death Eaters. He didn't think he should tell Rita that Snape had taught him Occlumency, since he wasn't sure if Snape wanted that to become common knowledge, but it was Snape who had provided him with the means to defeat Voldemort, so he wanted to give him some credit. So he made sure to mention Snape's role as a spy, and how Snape and the other Order members had protected him over the years, including the time Snape had saved Harry from Quirrell/Voldemort during the Quidditch match in first year.

"So is it true that Severus Snape and Remus Lupin are an item?" Rita asked, peering at him through her jeweled spectacles.

"No comment," Harry said. "You'll have to ask Professor Snape that himself." _I'd like to see you try!_ Harry thought to himself, picturing Snape turning Rita into a toad.

From the sour expression on Rita's face, the same thought had probably occurred to her. "You're becoming quite a savvy interviewee, Potter," she said with a hint of grudging respect.

When Snape saw the interview, he scowled ferociously, crumpled up the paper and threw it into the fireplace. Lupin laughed, hugged him, and said, "You'll just have to get used to being a hero, my love!"

*** 

Most of the teachers didn't try to teach their students much in the last week of school, since everyone was still stunned and distracted by all the uproar and upheaval that followed the battle. Flitwick let them play games and practice spells, Satoshi taught them magic tricks, McGonagall simply reviewed material that would be on their final exams, and most of the other teachers similarly took it easy on their students.

The two exceptions were Karasu and Snape, who were both of the opinion that keeping the students too busy to think would distract them from their grief and fear. Snape worked them mercilessly in his Potions classes, allowing them no time to brood or gossip; the Slytherins, although they grumbled under their breath the same as the other students, were troubled by many disturbing thoughts and memories, and were secretly grateful to get a couple of hours' respite from those thoughts. 

Meanwhile, Karasu worked them equally hard in his martial arts classes; their practice sessions allowed them to work off some of their nervous energy and left them too exhausted to brood or mope. And although they sometimes went to bed bruised and sore, the physical exertion also enabled the students to sleep soundly at night without having their rest interrupted by bad dreams.

Lupin gave his students their exams, as was required by the school, but as he solemnly told his sixth-year Gryffindor-Slytherin class, "As far as I'm concerned, you have already passed the test that truly counts: you took what I taught you and used it on the battlefield to defend the school and your classmates. I'm very proud of all of you." The entire class smiled at him, fairly bursting with pride, even Draco, although his pride was tempered with sorrow.

So aside from the exams, Lupin didn't bother with regular lessons, and spent most of his remaining class sessions simply talking with his students, much as he and Severus had done with the Slytherins the night following the battle. He knew that his students were still confused and a little frightened, and the non-Slytherin students were filled with curiosity about his newly-revealed relationship with the Potions Master.

"You and Professor Snape?" Dean Thomas asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "I still can't believe it! He's so...so..."

The Slytherin students all turned and glared at him, but Lupin intervened before an argument could start. "Stubborn?" Lupin asked gently, an amused smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "Intimidating? Unyielding?"

"Bad-tempered?" muttered Seamus Finnigan.

"Yes, that too," Lupin laughed. Then he said in a quieter and more serious voice, "But all those qualities reflect his inner strength, which enabled him to survive as a spy for almost two decades. It was not an easy job, you know, even aside from the very real and constant danger of being killed--to have to immerse oneself in the role of a Death Eater, to have to pretend to enjoy the killing and torture, to have to live with the suspicion in one's public life, to be feared and despised by one's peers...and one's students." The Gryffindors flushed and looked a bit shamefaced. "I know from experience that he can be...ah...difficult at times, but he has worked very hard to protect all of you. While he does take a sincere pleasure in docking points from Gryffindor, one of the reasons why he would grow so angry with you, Harry, whenever you snuck out of your dorm or the castle on some illicit adventure, was because it made it harder to protect you."

Harry's blush grew deeper as he remembered all the times he had suspected Snape of being in league with Voldemort. "Yes, Professor," he mumbled. "I know that now."

"Okay, so Snape's not a bad guy after all," Seamus said, frowning slightly, with the air of someone trying to figure out a complicated puzzle. "But I still don't understand what made you...ah...um..."

"Fall in love with him?" Lupin finished helpfully with a cheerful smile. 

Seamus turned scarlet. Although Pansy had been just as shocked as the Gryffindor boy to learn that Lupin and Snape were lovers, she gave him a condescending smile and said, "You Gryffindors are such prigs."

"I'm not a prig!" Seamus protested, although the sight of his two teachers kissing had thrown him for a loop and made him feel slightly queasy. He didn't think that it was so much the sight of Lupin kissing another man that made him queasy--although he didn't particularly want to see two guys kissing--so much as it was the fact that Lupin had been kissing _Snape!_ He could not picture anyone, male or female, wanting to kiss the beaky-nosed, greasy-haired, sallow-faced--not to mention bad-tempered--Potions Master. He shuddered a little as his overactive imagination conjured up an image of Professor McGonagall kissing Snape--no, that definitely was not an improvement! "It's just that he's so...well..." Seamus's voice trailed off; he didn't think that Lupin would appreciate someone calling his lover "ugly".

"Severus has many good points," Lupin said pleasantly. "I would say that he is brave, honorable, and--though he tries to hide it--compassionate, but Professor Snape would accuse me of trying to ruin his reputation if I did." 

"Uh, but you did just say it, didn't you, Professor?" Crabbe asked, scratching his head in confusion.

Lupin just grinned and winked at his class, then continued, "Besides, love isn't really logical, as you will no doubt discover for yourself one day, Seamus. You cannot choose who you will fall in love with, but I am very happy that fate brought Severus and I together."

"But he got you fired back in third year!" Dean exclaimed. 

"Contrary to what the poets say, love is not always a bed of roses," Lupin said, smiling but looking serious at the same time. "Nor does it mean never having to say you're sorry. In life, friendship, and love, there are always obstacles and misunderstandings." He began walking down the rows between the desks, and paused by Seamus. "One might, for example, believe what they read in the newspaper, and accuse a friend of lying." Seamus flushed and gave Harry an apologetic look, recalling how he had accused Harry of going crazy and lying about Voldemort's return. 

"But though there were harsh words exchanged, the two friends managed to overcome this misunderstanding and preserve their friendship." Lupin continued walking through the classroom and stopped between Parvati's and Pansy's desks. "Two people might, for example, have been brought up to despise one other, simply because of the Houses they were sorted into. Yet they learned to look beyond appearances and prejudices, and see each other as people, not just as Gryffindors or Slytherins." Parvati, Pansy, Lavender, and Millicent all smiled at each other. 

"And two teachers," Lupin continued softly, "might someday manage to overcome years of House rivalries and childhood grudges, and learn how to forgive each other." The bell signaling the end of class rang, and Lupin said, "Class dismissed; I'll see you all tomorrow." The students filed out, looking very thoughtful and subdued.

*** 

The students expected Professor Blackmore to drive them just as hard as Snape did in class, but much to their surprise, she dispensed with her normal lessons, and talked to them much as Lupin had. They were quite curious about her past, although she was evasive about the years in which she had been missing and presumed dead, but she did talk a little about her work as Auror.

"Why did you become a teacher again?" Dean wanted to know. "Isn't being an Auror more exciting?"

"I can live without the excitement, mate," Seamus said fervently. 

"There is no glamor, no glory in killing people, Mr. Thomas," Blackmore said quietly, "even in a just cause." Dean fell silent, looking flustered and a little guilty. "No one truly wins a war, no matter which side is proclaimed the victor." Neville nodded, thinking of his parents who had been driven insane by the Death Eaters' torture, and Harry and Draco looked solemn, thinking of their dead parents. "You should have realized this already, Mr. Thomas--you were working in the field hospital, so you saw the dead and wounded firsthand."

"Yes, Professor," Dean mumbled contritely.

"I much prefer nurturing young minds to fighting and killing," Blackmore continued. "I became an Auror because I was needed, but I took no pleasure in it. It broke my heart to face so many of my former students in battle."

"But they were Death Eaters," Dean protested, though in a subdued voice.

"They were also people," Blackmore said, her gaze drifting over to the Slytherins. "Mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, all with people who loved them." Crabbe and Goyle squirmed uncomfortably, and Draco stared down at his desk, unable to meet her eyes. Pansy, Millicent, and Blaise looked at her thoughtfully, while Theodore gave her a wary sidelong glance. "They made bad choices, but they were not all evil."

"You said that they tried to kill you; why don't you hate them?" Ron asked timidly; he was still having trouble adjusting to the fact that things weren't quite as clear-cut as he had always assumed. The Slytherins had fought on their side--including Draco and his cronies, much to Ron's shock, and even two full-fledged Death Eaters, Narcissa Malfoy and Delia Avery, had switched sides in the end. He was no longer sure how he should regard the Slytherins and the repentant Death Eaters.

"I cannot hate them, because I understand the circumstances that made them what they are," Blackmore said softly. "Some of them believed what their families had taught them, that the Muggle-born were a threat to the wizard race, and in their eyes, were simply doing their duty. One young man turned to Voldemort to gain enough power to win his true love's hand in marriage after her family tried to separate them." The students exchanged glances; although Blackmore hadn't mentioned his name, they all knew she was talking about Dylan Rosier's father. "And saddest of all, perhaps, was my old student Lorcan Foley--one of the Death Eaters who tried to kill me. He had been abused by his father, and turned to Voldemort to both escape his father's cruelty and gain revenge on him."

"That doesn't excuse what they did, though," Neville said, thinking again of his parents.

"You're right, Mr. Longbottom," Blackmore said. "It does not. But still...I knew them as children; I watched them grow up. I cannot help but sorrow for them...and to wonder if, as their teacher, I could have offered them better guidance and steered them away from the Death Eaters."

There was an awkward silence, then Hermione said, "I'm sure you did your best, Professor."

Blackmore smiled sadly at her, then said, "And...I cannot judge them. For I have faced temptation myself."

The class stared at her in shock. "Wh-what do you mean?" stammered Neville.

"Voldemort killed my parents," Blackmore said calmly.

"WHAT?!" the class exclaimed. Harry was the only one who was not surprised; Blackmore had told him a little about her father the night he had come to Grimmauld Place to talk to Sirius about the memories he had seen of his father and Snape in the Pensieve. The Slytherins, of course, knew more about pureblood politics and history than the Gryffindors, and Draco said slowly, "I had heard they were killed in an accident..."

"An accident of Voldemort's making," Blackmore said with a bitter smile. "My family had a reputation--not entirely undeserved--for being Dark Wizards, and Voldemort tried to recruit my father, who turned him down. So Voldemort arranged a little 'accident' at my father's research lab: my parents worked as researchers; they studied old books and documents in order to discover spells and potions that had been lost and forgotten through the passage of time, and worked to recreate them and restore that knowledge to the wizarding world. The Ministry investigators ruled that the explosion was an accidental mixing of volatile chemicals by an inexperienced apprentice, but in truth Voldemort was behind it, though no one could prove it." 

Her students stared at her in stunned silence. "I considered using Dark Magic to exact revenge upon the Death Eaters, but I realized that would make me no better than they were. But still, I was sorely tempted...so you see, I can feel compassion for those who succumbed to temptation, though I cannot condone what they did. Someday you might face similar temptation, and I hope you have the strength to make the right decision. I do not expect you to forgive the Death Eaters; I know that many of you have lost loved ones to them." She glanced at Harry and Neville. "But remember that hatred begets only hatred." She gave both the Gryffindors and Slytherins a hard look. "And remember that the Dark Lord used intolerance and prejudice to rally people to his cause, and do not make the same mistakes that the Death Eaters did."

The girls nodded, their faces a little pale and frightened, but they looked over and smiled at each other, while the boys' faces held varying degrees of confusion, guilt, resentment, and thoughtfulness. Branwen decided that she had given them enough food for thought for one day and dismissed them early. Her students left the classroom with relief; Branwen knew that she had not really eased their troubled thoughts and questions, only replaced them with new ones, but it was her job to teach her students--not to provide them with pat, easy answers. And hopefully some of what she said would sink in, if not now, then someday...

*** 

The final Quidditch match of the season was canceled; Dumbledore seemed to think it would be inappropriate, and no one, not even the Slytherins, who had hoped to win back the Cup from Gryffindor, really felt like playing, anyway. Draco especially did not feel like playing, knowing that his father would never come to one of his matches again.

One morning in the Great Hall, one of the Gryffindors sneered at Draco as he passed by their table, "Too bad about your father, Malfoy!"

Before Draco could react, Harry snapped, "Shut your stupid mouth! Draco fought on our side! We never would have won if we hadn't all come together like the Sorting Hat said!"

"Yeah," Ron added belligerently, as Hermione smiled at her two friends. "We're the only ones who get to insult Malfoy!"

As the Gryffindors--and the Slytherins, for that matter--stared at Harry and Ron in shock, Draco scowled and said, "I don't need you to defend me, Potter!"

"Ungrateful git," Ron said, but there seemed to be a hint of laughter in his eyes.

"Stupid lout," Draco retorted, but he seemed to be trying very hard not to smile.

"I'm disappointed in you, Malfoy!" Ron said. "Surely you can be more creative than that--I mean, you did make up the 'Weasley Is Our King' song, after all!"

"All of you settle down and take your seats before I give you all detention!" Snape snapped as he paused on his way to the head table with Lupin. The boys obeyed with alacrity, and he felt mollified; the students still feared him, so perhaps his reputation wasn't as damaged as he had thought it was. "Stirring up trouble as usual, I see," he said to Potter.

"Yes, sir," Harry said with a grin.

Snape's lips twitched and he almost smiled, but he managed to get himself under control and growl, "Don't get cheeky with me, Potter! I'm still your teacher, and I still expect you to treat me with respect, savior of the wizarding world or not!"

"Yes, sir," Harry said meekly.

"Jeez, you could cut him some slack, seeing as how he just saved us all from Voldemort," Ron muttered.

The other children at the Gryffindor table braced themselves, expecting to lose all their points and perhaps see Ron turned into a toad, but Snape just sighed and said in a magnanimous tone, "Oh, very well. Five points to Gryffindor for saving the world."

The jaws of the Gryffindor children dropped open, and Ron said indignantly, "Five measly points for saving the world--mmph!"

Hermione quickly clamped a hand over Ron's mouth and said, "Thank you, Professor."

Snape just snorted and stalked off, his black robes swirling around him. Lupin grinned and winked at them before following his lover to the head table.

*** 

On a more somber note, Snape, Lupin, Branwen, and Dumbledore accompanied Dylan to his family's estate in Wales to see Ariane and her brothers and mother laid to rest. Dylan would have liked to have seen his mother buried beside his father, but there had been no body left to bury after Evan had killed himself with the Death Strike spell. He thought perhaps he should bury his father's ring along with his mother, but he could not bear to part with the only memento he had of his father.

"No, you should keep it," Snape said. "Ariane would want you to have it, and besides, it serves as the key to the Rosier estate, which you might someday want to claim."

"But I'd like her to have something of my father's," Dylan said.

"Perhaps we could gather some flowers from your father's estate to lay on her grave," Lupin suggested. "Ah, normal ones," he hastened to add as Snape raised his eyebrows. "There are some normal roses on the estate, aren't there?"

"I believe so," Snape replied. "We need to go there anyway to return the vampiric roses to their resting place."

So they returned the roses to the attic room in the Rosier mansion, and the flowers seemed to sense that they were being locked away for good, because they rustled in what seemed like a regretful sigh and the full blossoms closed back into tight buds, and settled into a dormant slumber. They carefully locked the door and restored the protective wards on the room before they left. 

The portrait of Armand Rosier looked grateful to see that his great-grandson was still alive, and to hear that Voldemort was dead. "Do you think you'll move into the mansion someday?" he asked a little wistfully.

"I don't know," Dylan replied. He wasn't sure if he wanted to live in this gloomy mansion, even if it had been his father's home. "Besides, technically the estate belongs to the Ministry, doesn't it?"

"Technically," Snape said, "but it should have gone to you, since you were Evan's heir and you had not committed any crimes. The Ministry pulled a fast one, knowing that you were too young to assert your rights, and your mother was in no position to do so for you at the time, as she was on trial herself. I'll talk to Math about hiring a lawyer to get the title restored to you. It is your birthright, after all."

"Thank you, Professor," Dylan said. After they left the house, he said, "I'm not really sure I want to live there, though, with a bunch of dead people in paintings yammering at me all the time."

"Just thank Merlin you don't live in Black's house," Snape muttered.

"Are...are those people ghosts?" Dylan asked curiously. "Did they somehow put their spirits into the portraits after they died?"

Snape shook his head. "No, Dylan. That portrait of Armand is not really your great-grandfather, just a sort of echo, if you will; a reflection of his personality and his memories put into the painting by magic. It became tradition among the pureblood nobility to have these types of portraits made so that a part of them would live on after they died, but they are not truly ghosts."

"Uncle Math doesn't have any portraits like that in his house," Dylan said, "and I don't think I'd want one made of me. It seems kind of sad and pathetic, somehow. I'd rather just die and be done with it than live on as an echo in a piece of canvas."

"I agree," Lupin said. "But some people have it done out of vanity, out of fear of death, and occasionally for less selfish reasons. Portraits of the previous Headmasters at Hogwarts are made so that they can pass on their wisdom and advice to the current Headmaster."

"Just what I'd want," Snape said sarcastically, "a bunch of old men and women telling me how things were done in their day and complaining about the way I'm doing things now. I'm just glad they didn't institute that tradition for the Potions Masters!"

Lupin laughed, and Dylan smiled a little, and they gathered some roses from the grounds for Ariane's grave--white roses, because those had been Ariane's favorite, and the black roses that bloomed only on the Rosier estate.

Dylan laid the roses on his mother's grave and wept a little. Math wept not just for Ariane, but for his sister and Gwydion and Gilbert.

"They were not always as you knew them, Dylan," Math told him. "The twins were once young boys who adored their little sister and watched over her protectively after their father died."

"Gilbert saved me in the end," Goewin said sadly. "I think he was trying to atone for the crimes he committed, both in the past and present. He was my friend once, a long time ago; I cannot bring myself to hate him. Let our hatred and our grudges be buried along with the dead."

"I cannot really be sorry that they're dead," Dylan admitted. "But I'm sorry for your sakes, Uncle Math, Aunt Goewin."

But it seemed that the roses from the Rosier estate were not quite normal after all, because the next day Math found that they had rooted themselves in the earth and grown into an arch of intertwined white and black roses over Ariane's headstone.

*** 

Snape and Lupin were summoned to Dumbledore's office the day before school was about to let out for the summer. They found Dylan, Math, and a very irate-looking Goewin waiting for them. Goewin glared at Snape, who had no idea what was going on. He had just seen them at the funeral a few days ago, and they had been civil enough, even grateful for the way he had looked after Dylan.

"Have a seat, Severus, Remus," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Something unexpected came up when the Donners read Ariane's will."

Snape sat down, wondering if Ariane had left them some sort of bequest. But that made no sense--she had no property of her own, save for a few personal possessions, since her mother had disowned her and she was entitled to none of the wealth of the Donner estates.

Dumbledore unrolled a piece of parchment and read, "'All my worldly possessions I leave to my son, Dylan'--that's mainly just a few pieces of jewelry, and her books and photos and other personal items--"

"Get on with it, Albus," Goewin snapped, and Snape gave her another puzzled look. Math looked both worried and amused, and Dylan looked anxious and a little excited.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "'Should I die before my son comes of age, I hereby appoint Severus Snape and Remus Lupin as his legal guardians--'"

"What?!" exclaimed Snape. "I thought--I assumed that Mathias and Goewin would become his guardians--"

"So did we," Goewin snapped, and he finally understood why she was glowering at them so fiercely.

"We didn't know about this, Goewin," Lupin told her in a gentle voice. "It's a complete surprise to us as well. She must have had it drawn up recently; she didn't know we were a couple until...well, it was the day we found out you were pregnant, come to think of it..."

Snape was not surprised that Ariane had made a will after joining the Order, although he was surprised by its contents; all the members had known that their lives would be at risk. He had done the same thing, leaving all his money to Lupin and his books to Dylan. He hadn't told Lupin about it, though, not wanting to upset him, and fortunately it had not been necessary.

"We're his relatives!" Goewin shouted, looking angry and hurt. "We've looked after him ever since he was born, loved him like he was our own son--how could she do this to us? Is this some sort of punishment for the bargain Math made with Deirdre, to keep Ariane imprisoned on the estate--?"

"I'm sure that's not it, Aunt Goewin," Dylan assured her. "She was grateful for the way you helped us, really. And you have the baby to look after now, you don't need me--"

"Oh, Dylan," Goewin sobbed, throwing her arms around him. "We don't love you any less now that we have Ariana--"

"I know that," he said, patting her on the back awkwardly.

"And you are still our heir," Math pointed out. "Now that Deirdre and the boys are dead, Ariana will inherit the Donner title, so my estate will still go to you."

"What do _you_ want, Dylan?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Dylan looked torn. "I love you and Uncle Math," he told Goewin. "I always will, and I don't want to hurt you, but...but..."

"But you'd like to live with Severus and Remus," Math finished with a sad smile.

"If that's okay with you," Dylan said to Snape shyly. "I mean, I know Mother didn't consult you, so maybe you don't--"   
"I would love for you to live with me," Snape said hoarsely, as he felt tears sting his eyes; he blinked hard to keep them from falling. "With us, I mean."

"You don't even have a house, Severus!" Goewin shouted. "Aren't your quarters already a bit cramped with Remus living in them?"

"Well, Dylan will be living in the dorm during the school year, anyway," Lupin said mildly, "and I have a cottage that my parents left to me where we can spend the summers." He smiled at Dylan. "It's no mansion, and it's a bit run-down, but it's cozy and it's home."

"I'm sure it will be fine, Professor," Dylan said, smiling at Lupin. His smile faded as he turned to his weeping aunt. "Aunt Goewin, I'm sorry," he said helplessly.

"I think I know why Ariane appointed us as his guardians," Lupin said gently. "And I think I know why Dylan wants to live with us, and neither reason is a slight against you or Math." Goewin stopped weeping and looked up at him. "You and Math have never been tempted by the Dark Arts, never been tempted by the desire for power and revenge. But Ariane was, and Dylan was." Dylan flushed, looking shamefaced. "And Ariane knew that Severus would understand these things; she knew that he was the only one among us who knew what it was like to wear the Dark Mark on his arm. She knew that he would understand what Dylan is going through right now, and be able to help him work through it."

"Is that true, Dylan?" Goewin asked. "Is this what you really want?"

"Yes, Aunt Goewin," Dylan replied. "The Professor tried to keep me from joining the Death Eaters, and he helped me after I was Marked." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You...you don't know what it was like, having to face Voldemort, having to pretend to be one of them. I watched him use my roses to kill Professor Karkaroff..." He shuddered and rubbed his left arm, although his Mark, like Snape's, had vanished with Voldemort's death.

"I see," Goewin murmured, stroking his hair. She looked over and saw the same guilt in Snape's eyes that she saw in Dylan's. "Very well," she sighed, and smiled through her tears and kissed her great-nephew's cheek. "But don't be a stranger; come and visit us when you can."

"Of course he can visit you whenever he wants," Lupin said, "during the summer and the holidays. I'm sure he'll want to visit with his new cousin often." He exchanged a glance with Snape and said, "But there is one thing we should tell you before you decide you want to come live with us..."

When Lupin finished speaking, Math and Goewin blinked in surprise, and Dylan grinned from ear to ear. Snape was gratified to see him smile, since he had done so only rarely after his mother's death. "Of course I still want to live with you! This is great!"

"Very well, Dylan," Lupin said with a smile. "You may go back to your dorm, but don't say anything." He lifted his finger to his lips. "We'd like to tell him ourselves."

*** 

Theodore Nott hesitantly walked into the Headmaster's office, looking suspicious and a little worried. "Am I in trouble?" he asked. "I'm not being arrested as a Death Eater or anything like that, am I?"

"No, Theodore," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "Please have a seat." The boy sank into a chair, still looking worried as his eyes slid over to Lupin and Snape. "You're not in any trouble, Theodore. The Professors and I are just concerned about you. Both your parents died during the battle, and we were trying to determine who your new guardians would be. Your parents left behind no will, and we spoke to some of your relatives, but..."

"But they don't want me," Theodore finished, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "That's not surprising. My dad's relatives are probably trying to distance themselves as much as possible so that no one will think they were Death Eaters, too, and my mother's family has always hated us ever since..." His voice trailed off.

"Ever since what, Theo?" Lupin asked gently.

"Well, he's dead now," Theodore muttered to himself. "So I suppose it's safe to tell you. My father killed my Uncle Rafe, my mother's younger brother, when I was eight years old."

"What?!" exclaimed Lupin; Dumbledore merely raised his eyebrows.

Snape looked startled, but then his eyes narrowed in thought. "I remember now; Rafe Dietrich disappeared mysteriously about eight or nine years ago. He supposedly sent his family a letter saying that he'd run off to Europe with some girl, but they doubted the authenticity of the letter..."

"They knew my dad had killed him," Theodore whispered, "but they couldn't prove it. It was all my fault."

"Theodore," Lupin said, sounding alarmed.

"Uncle Rafe was always nice to me," Theodore continued, still whispering; Lupin and Snape had to lean forward to make out his words. "I used to wish that I could live with him instead of my mother and father. He suspected my dad was a Death Eater, and he didn't like the way he treated my mother and me. He used to argue with my mother, told her that she should leave my dad, but she was too scared. Plus, she was ashamed of what people might think. One day my uncle found me crying after my dad had hexed me, and asked me what was wrong. I wouldn't tell him at first, but he told me I could trust him, and that he'd help me. So I told him, and I showed him the welts on my arm that the spell had left behind." Tears began to run down his face. "I just thought he'd take me away; I didn't think he'd go off and confront my father all by himself! He went and told my father that he was going to take me and my mother away from him, and that he was going to expose him as a Death Eater. My mother was screaming at him to stop, and my father killed him, right there in front of us, with a Killing Curse."

"That's why you can see the Thestrals," Snape murmured.

Theodore nodded, still weeping. "My dad told me and my mother that he'd kill us too if we told anyone. Avery came over later and helped him get rid of the body; I don't know what they did with it. They never told us and I was too scared to ask. It was all my fault, I shouldn't have said anything!" He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he wept with years of pent-up grief and guilt. 

Snape stared at the boy helplessly, and Lupin nudged him in the side and gave him a pointed look. Snape gave him a plaintive, "Who me?" look, and Lupin nodded, glaring at him sternly. Snape sighed, got up, and awkwardly put an arm around Theodore. "It's not your fault, child," he said gruffly. "Rafe should have known better than to confront a Death Eater alone, but he was always an impulsive, hotheaded, idealistic young man--come to think of it, he was a Gryffindor. I remember it scandalized his family because they had always been Slytherins--much like Sirius Black and his family. They didn't disown Rafe the way the Blacks did Sirius, though; he was the baby of the family and his parents doted on him."

"I should have just kept my mouth shut," Theodore sobbed.

"It was the job of the adults in your family to protect you," Snape said firmly, "not the other way around. Your father should not have hurt you, your mother should have stopped him when he did, and your uncle shouldn't have been so foolish." Snape sighed guiltily. "And I should have realized what was going on. But I didn't stop him, and I didn't stop Serafina's father from hurting her, either, because I was too busy protecting my Death Eater cover. If you wish to blame someone, blame me, not yourself."

Theodore just shook his head and clung to Snape, and Snape let the boy weep against his chest, while Lupin and Dumbledore smiled at him with irritatingly smug and satisfied looks on their faces. The boy's crying tapered off, and he pulled away from Snape, wiping at his face with his sleeve, looking a little mortified--not to mention shocked that the Potions Master had actually held him while he wept. Snape handed Theodore a handkerchief, and gratefully retreated back to his own chair, looking just as embarrassed; Lupin smiled at him tenderly, and he flushed.

Once the boy had composed himself, Dumbledore said, "We'll inform Rafe's family of his fate; they deserve to know. You must not blame yourself, Theodore; it wasn't your fault." Theodore still didn't look convinced of that, but said nothing. "But that still leaves you in need of a guardian."

"I'm almost seventeen," Theodore said with his customary sullenness. "I don't need anyone to look after me!"

"The law says that you do, Theodore," Dumbledore said gently, "and I think you do as well, whether the law says so or not. Fortunately, Professors Lupin and Snape have volunteered to become your foster parents."

_"What?!"_ Theodore shrieked in surprise.

"If that's all right with you, Theo," Lupin added.

"B-b-but," Theodore stammered, "you live at school. Will I stay here during the summer?"

"No," Lupin said patiently. "I have a cottage where we will live during the summer, and perhaps the holidays."

"But I don't really need a guardian," Theodore argued, still looking rather stunned. He turned to the Headmaster. "If you let me stay here this summer, I've only got one more year of school left, and then I'll be graduating anyway. Or maybe I could spend the summer with Dylan or Blaise--"

"Actually, Dylan will be living with us, too," Lupin said cheerfully. "His mother appointed Severus and I as his guardians in her will."

_"What?!"_

"Theodore," Lupin said, looking concerned and a little hurt, "if you really don't want to live with us, perhaps--"

"You seem to think that you have a choice in the matter, Mr. Nott," Snape said in his coldest and most intimidating voice. Lupin gave him a startled look, then glared at him; Snape ignored him. "I assure you that you do not," Snape continued. "Lupin and I are your guardians now, and you will live with us when school is not in session. Is that clear, Mr. Nott?"

"Yes, sir," Theodore said, looking relieved and grateful rather than frightened or offended.

"Very well, Mr. Nott," Snape said sternly. "You may go now, and I suggest that you start packing since tomorrow is the last day of school."

"Yes, sir," Theodore said meekly, and left the room.

"Weren't you kind of hard on him, Severus?" Lupin asked accusingly.

"You have to know how to handle these children," Snape retorted. "They're not like Gryffindors; you'll only confuse them by pampering and coddling them. Their whole world has been turned upside-down: they don't want people offering them choices; they want someone to step in and tell them what to do. They want an adult to look after them. When everything is changing around them, familiarity is comforting, even if that means their Head of House acting as threatening as always. And what the hell is so funny, Lupin?" He stared indignantly at his lover, who had just burst out laughing.

"You are," Lupin said, choking with laughter. "You're always, 'I'm no good with children, Lupin' and 'you know how to comfort children, Lupin, I don't'. Well, apparently you do, you old softie!" Then Lupin collapsed in his chair, laughing his head off.

Snape glared at him, and muttered in a disgusted tone, "Werewolves!"

Dumbledore just smiled indulgently and set two huge stacks of paper on the desk before Lupin and Snape. "Before you go, boys, I'll need you to fill these out. The official forms needed to be filed with the court in order to appoint you as Dylan's and Theodore's legal guardians."

Snape groaned as he picked up a quill. "Can't the new Minister of Magic cut through the red tape for us?" he grumbled.

"He already has," Dumbledore informed him. "How else do you think your request was approved so quickly? Do you think it would be easy under normal circumstances for a werewolf and a former Death Eater to win custody of a child, even one as unwanted as Theodore? Not to mention that it's extremely rare for a same-sex couple to be granted joint custody of a child; in fact, I'm not sure it's ever been done before. One of you might have been able to get custody of the children alone, but the two of you together--it would never have happened without Arthur's help. But you still need to fill out the paperwork."

"All right, all right," Snape grumbled as he filled out the forms, and Lupin managed to stop laughing and deal with his own stack of paperwork.

*** 

They were about halfway through the stacks of paper when Harry, Sirius, and McGonagall walked in. Lupin and Snape retreated to a far corner of the room and continued filling out the forms while the Headmaster spoke to Harry.

"I informed your aunt and uncle that the threat to you is over," Dumbledore said solemnly. "They sent this in reply." 

He handed Harry a letter which had only a few sentences scrawled on it in Aunt Petunia's handwriting: "Then my duty is over! The boy is your responsibility now, and good riddance! Tell him never to come near my home again!"

Harry knew he should be relieved that he didn't have to live with the Dursleys anymore, but he felt very hurt, although his aunt's reply was nothing more than what he would have expected. "I don't understand why they hate me so much," he said sadly. "I mean, I know they don't like magic and all, but my mother was Aunt Petunia's sister. How could she hate her own sister like that?"

"Hate is borne of fear, Harry," Lupin said gently. "And people fear what they do not understand."

Snape snorted derisively. Without looking up from his papers, he said, "Fear's got nothing to do with it. She was jealous." A brief silence fell over the room, and it took Snape a minute to notice that everyone was staring at him. "What, hadn't that ever occurred to any of you? Honestly, you Gryffindors are so naive!"

"Who's jealous?" Harry asked. "Aunt Petunia? Why?"

"Because Lily had magic and she didn't," Snape said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

"But Aunt Petunia hates magic!" Harry protested.

Snape snorted again. "You're a bit dense, boy, considering that you're the savior of the wizarding world." He added in a more serious tone, thinking of himself and Black and James Potter, "It's easy to hate someone who has everything--or at least seems to have everything." Then he noticed that everyone was staring at him again--Potter and Black in particular were looking very thoughtful--and he flushed as he belatedly realized that he had exposed more of himself than he had intended. He cleared his throat and added gruffly, "What I meant, boy, was that no doubt your aunt was jealous that your mother could do magic and she could not. After all, don't Muggles always wish they had magic? It certainly seems so from their literature." Everyone was staring at him again. "What?!" he snapped.

"You read Muggle novels, Snape?" Sirius asked, looking amused.

Snape flushed again and snapped, "I took Muggle Studies in school, the same as you and everyone else, Black!" Snape continued in a huffy voice, "Anyway, as I was saying, since your aunt knew she would never possess magic, she probably decided to hate it, and hate your mother by extension."

"Like the fox and the grapes in Aesop's Fables," Lupin mused. "The fox wanted to eat the grapes, but he couldn't reach them so he said, 'They were probably sour; I didn't want them anyway!'" And Snape flushed yet again as he remembered how he had come to hate Lupin after he had lost him, because it was easier to hate him than to admit to himself how much he missed Lupin. Lupin, as always, seemed to sense what he was thinking, and reached out and laid his hand over Snape's.

"You're very perceptive, Severus," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

"I can't concentrate with all this chatter," Snape snarled. "I'll finish the paperwork in my office and return it to you later, Headmaster. Come along, Lupin."

"What's all the paperwork for?" Sirius asked curiously. 

"We're adopting Dylan and Theodore," Lupin said happily.

"Well, technically fostering them," Snape corrected. "They're still keeping their own names and family inheritances--or at least I hope so." He frowned. "I'd better talk to that lawyer; I don't want the Ministry trying to confiscate the Nott estate like they did with the Rosiers'."

"You're adopting Rosier and Nott?" Harry asked incredulously, and McGonagall looked like she was going to faint.

"Fostering is the legal term," Snape snapped. "Not that it's any of your business."

"But essentially, yes," Lupin said, still grinning happily.

"But why?" Harry asked.

"Their parents are dead, and they need someone to look after them," Lupin explained patiently. "And Severus and I have grown very fond of them."

Everyone was staring at Snape again; this was getting to be a habit. He just grunted, looking embarrassed and annoyed, and muttered, "Yes, well, let's just be glad that Delia and Narcissa were released on probation, and that Crabbe and Goyle still have their mothers as well. I don't mind taking on Dylan and Theodore, but I don't really want to foster half of Slytherin."

"They certainly wouldn't all fit in my little cottage," Lupin laughed. "We'd have to tear it down and build a bigger house...or maybe just build an addition onto it. Hmm..." His face took on a thoughtful expression.

"Don't even think about it, Lupin," Snape warned. "Two children are more than enough for us to handle."

"I suppose you're right," Lupin laughed, and smiled tenderly at Snape. "After all, I never dreamed that I would ever have any children at all. Nor that I would be living happily-ever-after with you."

"Cut that out, Lupin," Snape hissed, his face turning red. Lupin just laughed.

Sirius laughed good-naturedly, and laid his hand on Harry's shoulder. "You see, Harry, family isn't always determined by blood. Lupin and your dad were my family, and so are you."

Harry smiled at him gratefully. "I can come live with you, then?" he asked. "Do you still want me to?"

"Of course!" Sirius said heartily. "I only let you go to the Dursleys because I was a fugitive, and Albus said it was necessary to keep you safe. Hob will be so happy to have a child around the house! Oh, and, uh..." He blushed. "I hope you don't mind, but Branwen will be living there permanently from now on. We, um, haven't announced it officially yet, but we're getting married in August. You're all invited, of course," he told everyone in the room. 

The idea of Professor Blackmore as a step-godmother was a bit intimidating, but he smiled and said, "Congratulations, Sirius! I'm really happy for you." And he felt more than adequately rewarded by his godfather's warm smile. Well, Blackmore had lived in the house with them for the last two summers, so it wouldn't be that much different, Harry supposed. But he resolved to keep a large supply of chocolate on hand to pacify Bane.

Lupin was hugging Sirius, Dumbledore was beaming, and McGonagall offered Sirius her congratulations, still looking a little bemused by all these startling revelations. Snape looked outraged for a moment, then he smiled sardonically and said, "I would tell you that if you break her heart, I'll kill you, but I don't really think that's necessary, since she's more than capable of taking care of herself. She is quite strong enough to break every bone in your body without any need for magic; it must be her demon blood. So I wouldn't let her catch you making eyes at other women if I were you, Black."

"Severus!" Lupin scolded.

"I'm not interested in looking at any other women," Sirius said firmly. "Though your concern for me is quite touching, Snape."

"And," Snape added with a wicked grin, "don't forget that she has a vengeful Demon Prince for a grandfather who will take it most amiss if you make his favorite little granddaughter cry."

This time Sirius turned a little pale, and Lupin shouted, "SEVERUS!" Suddenly both Sirius and Severus burst out laughing, and Lupin shook his head, looking quite cross. "Honestly, I swear you two drive me crazy sometimes!"

"But Lupin," Snape said innocently, "I thought you wanted me and Black to get along!" 

"Don't play innocent with me, Severus!" Lupin snapped.

"But Remy," Sirius piped up, "aren't you glad that Snape and I are getting along so well?" Then the two old enemies exchanged conspiratorial grins.

Lupin glared at them both, but he couldn't keep it up for very long; he quickly gave in and laughed. "Next time I'll be careful what I ask for, as the saying goes!" 

He and Snape left, and McGonagall shook her head and said she needed to go lie down. "I'm too old to deal with all these changes," she sighed.

"Why Minerva, my dear," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling merrily behind his glasses, "you're a spring chicken compared to me!"

McGonagall burst out laughing. Then she smiled at Harry and said to Sirius, "Take good care of Mr. Potter, now."

"I will, Professor," Sirius promised, and he hugged Harry, who hugged him back, and suddenly the Dursleys' rejection no longer stung so much.

*** 

On the last day of school, Dumbledore gave thanks that all the students had survived the battle, and asked them to remember those who had given their lives in the war.

"Now, as for the House Cup," he said, "something quite unusual has happened this year. Gryffindor and Slytherin are tied for the top score with 456 points each."

"What?!" Snape and McGonagall cried.

"By the way, Severus," Lupin couldn't resist pointing out, "if you hadn't given Harry those five points for 'saving the world' just to be sarcastic, Slytherin would have won."

Snape let out a howl of outrage that echoed through the Great Hall as Lupin burst out laughing. Dumbledore cleared his throat and gave them both a stern look, but there was a hint of laughter sparkling in his eyes as well. Lupin managed to tone down his laughter to a soft chuckle, and Snape subsided with a very sullen and sulky look on his face as he crossed his arms and glared at his lover.

"I think this is actually a very fortuitous event," Dumbledore continued. "A symbol, if you will, of the spirit of unity and cooperation between the Houses that you all showed during these difficult times. The House Cup was intended only to provide a little friendly competition; it was never meant to cause the division and enmity that seems to have developed over the years." Branwen nodded in agreement, the look in her eyes saying, "I told you that years ago!" Dumbledore smiled at her, then turned back to face the students and said, "So I hereby decree that Gryffindor and Slytherin are the joint winners of the House Cup this year, and will share the award!" He raised his wand and the red-and-gold banners of Gryffindor and the green-and-silver banners of Slytherin dropped down from the ceiling. "Congratulations to you both!"

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs clapped and cheered, looking rather amused by this turn of events. The Gryffindors and Slytherins clapped with something less than great enthusiasm--or at least most of them did. Hermione and Neville at Gryffindor, and Crabbe and Goyle at Slytherin were grinning at each other and clapping vigorously.

At the Slytherin table, Damien said, "Hey, does this mean that I can date Gryffindor girls now?" Draco gave him a sour look, but no one was overly intimidated by Malfoy anymore now that his father was dead and the Death Eaters disbanded.

"Do you ever think about anything but girls, Pierce?" Theodore asked in an aggrieved tone.

"Not really," Damien replied cheerfully, and winked at Parvati and Lavender over at the Gryffindor table. The girls giggled and blushed.

Theodore rolled his eyes, and Dylan and Blaise started laughing, and that seemed to start a chain reaction--pretty soon the whole table was laughing, and even Draco gave in and cracked a smile.

After the students were dismissed, Theodore and Dylan got their bags and met Lupin and Snape in the dungeon. 

"Ready to go home, boys?" Lupin asked.

The four of them stared at each other for a moment; Theodore and Snape had never really had a home before--a place to call "home," with people who cared about you, and not just a building that you lived in--and were both filled with a sudden sense of awe. Dylan thought it was strange that he had never even seen Lupin's house, yet that word "home" felt very reassuring and welcoming. He supposed that "home" was really more the people you loved than a particular place, and he was already feeling very much at home with his two favorite teachers-turned-foster-parents and his friend-turned-foster-brother. Lupin smiled at his strange little family, thinking that he could not feel more wealthy than if he owned all the gold in Gringotts.

He blinked away the tears that had suddenly formed in his eyes, and repeated, "Shall we go home?"

"Yes, Remus," Snape said.

"Yes, Professor," Dylan and Theodore said.

Lupin smiled at them, and they headed to the school entrance to catch a carriage home.


End file.
